


Redux

by MunchkinHug



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Baby Dean Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Caretaking, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Diapers, Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Foster Care, Found Family, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Dean Winchester, Incontinence, Littles Are Known, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Therapy, bottle feeding, medical treatment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 105,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunchkinHug/pseuds/MunchkinHug
Summary: As a leading Pediatrician in the evolving field of Little Behavioral Medicine, Castiel Novak is clearly at the top of his game. However, when an unclassified, abused Little is dumped at his office by Social Services, Castiel quickly learns that being a caregiver involves far more than he ever imagined.(Previously titled "Turnabout;" Re-written, edited, and revived for your viewing pleasure)Spanish translation available here by the lovely angelsil99:https://www.wattpad.com/961578358-redux-traduccion-%F0%9F%8D%AEaclaraci%C3%B3n%F0%9F%8D%AE
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 294
Kudos: 759





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who remembers, this fic was here last year under the name "Turnabout." I am very sensitive about my writing quality and I felt the story was lacking so I took it down to revamp and edit. It's back and hopefully improved. Thank you all for your patience and understanding. I hope it's enjoyable now that it's back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's plans get waylaid, Social Services arrives, and a traumatized Little comes in from the cold. 
> 
> Edited: 10/5 (Just some grammar, punctuation, and overall flow issues). No Beta... #WewritelikeMne

Castiel was running late. No, scratch that. "Running late" was what people did with Starbucks and 10 minute delays. No, Castiel decided. His entire schedule was an ill-conceived joke now. 

He glared down at watch and swiped away the flashing reminders on the tiny screen. He was well aware that his plane was boarding in an hour and a half. At this point, there would really be no point running home first for a shower and meal. All his plans were royally screwed. He would have no time after his final appointment of the day. If his day had just gone according to schedule! He'd very carefully arranged his patient schedule to give himself a good few hours of time at home before heading out to the airport. Time for a proper dinner. Time for a long, hot shower in preparation for the stiff seats and drafty chill of the airplane. Time for a leisurely cup of coffee.

_The best laid schemes o' mice an' men._

All those carefully laid plans had gone out the window as the day progressed. Several appointments had run late. One patient had shown up a full 45 minutes late and Charlie hadn't had the heart to force them to re-schedule.

Then there was Jacob. The Little's guardian had called the office in a blind panic begging for Castiel to see his little one. Castiel was a busy pediatrician. He normally never accepted walk-in's or last minute appointments. His schedule was busy enough as is and it wasn't fair to the dozens of other patients on his wait-list. However, the broken desperation in the caregiver's voice had gutted him. He couldn't say no. 

Charlie had called him a sap. 

Castiel grabbed the manila folder on his desk and thumbed to the first page to review Charlie’s intake notes. 

He felt his chest give a painful twinge after the brief summary Charlie had scribbled out. 

_‘Peters, Jacob. Headspace 1 –3 years. Surrendered by biological mother for adoption following Little presentation. Resident of Boulder State Home for Littles 2+ years. Adopted by Jackson, Isaac S. 3 months previous._

_Caregiver reports Jacob experienced troubling symptoms following adoption and appeared emotionally distressed in the weeks following adoption. Symptoms cumulated into a severe and lasting Drop into headspace approximately 9 months of age. Caregiver reports Little has been nonverbal and non-responsive for the past 2 weeks; refusing food (including bottles); poor sleep; lethargic; disinterest in play;_

_Caregiver expressed extreme concern in the change in behavior and chronic Drop._

Castiel glanced through the boy’s intake vitals. Nothing was significantly out of range, but the low-grade fever gave Castiel pause. It was something. 

He grabbed his stethoscope and headed for the exam room. His smartwatch gave a not-so-subtle vibrate, but he chose to ignore it. His flight could wait; Charlie could re-schedule a later one. He’d make it to the conference. 

He was one of the few Little Pediatricians one the West Coast. His new-patient wait list was an every-growing black hole. He had a responsibility to his patients. Jacob’s story had been the poke in the conscience he needed. The boy’s story was all-to-familiar to him. With the skyrocketing rates of homeless and maladjusted or abused Littles, his practice was full of cases just like Jacob. He pictured himself relaxing on his plane with a hot towel and ginger ale. There was no way he could just leave for the night and abandon this case. Not if he wanted a conscience that would let him sleep at night.

“Good evening, Mr. Jackson. I’m Doctor Castiel Novak.” Castiel gave a smile he didn’t feel. The caregiver was a wreck. The man ran a hand through his greasy mop of hair and smiled back at Castiel with a smile that didn’t reach his drained eyes. 

“Thanks for fitting us in, Doc. I know this is a late appointment. It’s just...” 

The Little huddled on Isaac’s lap gave a miserable whine. The man snuggled him closer. “I was getting desperate. He’s not well. I can’t stand seeing him like this. He’s not eating. Sleeping. It’s like he doesn’t even know I’m here any more.” 

The man’s voice cracked and he looked away, snuzzling his face into Jacob’s downy hair. “You helped my sister’s Little.” 

The phrase was curt and simple, but it radiated such desperation and trust. 

“I remember Emma well. We got her all fixed up. She’s doing so well now,” Castiel murmured. “I’m going to do everything I can for Jacob. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.” 

Isaac nodded tightly and adjusted Jacob on his lap, tucking the blanket closer. 

“I’d like to do a quick exam to see if there’s physical reason behind how long and hard Jacob’s Dropped.” 

“It’s not...” Isaac’s voice trailed off. “It’s not just because he hates living with me? It's not me... right?” 

Castiel looked up at the caregiver. The man looked terrified as if he’d committed some unpardonable sin. It was clear just how much the boy meant to him. There was no way Castiel could imagine him doing anything other than his absolute best to give Jacob the new home he deserved. 

“You’re concerned he wasn’t adjusting to his new life with you?” 

Castiel hated the deflection, but he couldn’t tell the man his suspicions just yet. There was a very real chance that Jacob was maladjusted—that he simply wasn’t transitioning well into his new life with his new guardian. It was common for newly adopted Littles to suffer emotional disturbances. Jacob had been surrendered to the State by his mother; records showed she felt she couldn’t properly take care of Jacob after learning his presentation. No doubt Jacob felt abandoned and unwanted. The whole situation was tragic. 

Castiel eased Jacob onto the exam table and tugged the blanket down just enough to auscultate his chest. Jacob began whining immediately at the sensation of the stethoscope. 

“He seemed okay when I first brought him home,” Isaac began. “He was in his Big space and we... we were just getting to know each other. He was showing me what video games he liked. I mean, he was quiet and seemed sad, but...” 

Castiel nodded and gently palpated Jacob’s stomach to check for pain. The boy squirmed away irritably. Castiel frowned pensively at the reaction. 

“Have you noticed any changes in his bathroom habits?” 

“Bathroom habits?” 

“The amount he’s going. Any changes in color. Any pain when he goes.” 

“I don’t think so. Um... I didn’t really think to look.” 

Castiel regarded Jacob carefully. “I’m going to take a quick look in his diaper to check for anything out of the ordinary.” 

Castiel peeled back the tabs and pulled the front of diaper away. The padding was stained dark amber. The strong odor hit him and he immediately felt a small burst of relief. Physical illness was one of the most common and treatable reasons of prolonged Drop. Littles often couldn’t describe their symptoms and illness could be subtle. Prolonged Drop was a broad and obvious sign that something was wrong. Urinary tract infections were treatable. There was a good chance Jacob would come back out of the Drop when the infection resolved. 

“I need to get a quick urine sample. I think he may have a urinary tract infection. UTI’s are pretty common in Littles and they’re easy to miss. There’s a good chance it could be causing the Drop.” 

Isaac looked several seconds away from bursting into tears. Whether they tears of relief or exhaustion Castiel couldn't tell.

**** 

Charlie grinned warmly as Castiel walked Isaac and Jacob over to her desk. Jacob's face was buried in his caregiver's neck and his miserable whines were just loud enough to escape. Isaac cuddled him closer, nodding diligently as he listened to Castiel's final instructions.

“Charlie will get you all set up with a follow-up. Once Jacob starts the antibiotic, you should start seeing some improvement over the next week. Give us a call if you don’t see signs that the Drop is resolving and we’ll get him back in for a re-check.” 

“The antibiotics will work though?” 

Castiel nodded and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “There’s a very good chance all this is from the infection. Once the meds kick in, Jacob should start returning to normal.” 

“I’ve already failed as caregiver, though. I mean, what caregiver doesn’t see that their Little has an infection?” 

“Jacob was going through a lot. He probably didn’t even notice that symptoms at first. By the time he did, he’d already Dropped. It’s not your fault.” Castiel squeezed his shoulder. “Now, head on out to the pharmacy and get Jacob home and cozy. Warm compresses for his lower tummy if he looks like he’s hurting; you can dose him with Tylenol too. Let him rest and try to get him to drink as much fluids as you can. Call me anytime you have any concerns.” 

Isaac gave a real smile for the first time that evening. Relief moistened his eyes. “Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate you staying so late to see us.” 

The moment the door closed, Charlie was up from her desk throwing Castiel his coat and backpack. “Alright boss-man, I already called and got you a later flight. You have an hour to get to the airport. You board at 7:30. Get out of here!” 

“Thanks, Charlie!” Castiel jogged into his office and began a rapid-fire packing job. He loaded up his presentation folders and began searching for his laptop. He finally found it buried under a small Everest of folders on his desk. He stuffed it into his backpack and hunted for the charger. Of all conferences to miss! He was scheduled to speak at this one!

_Keys. Keys. Where were his keys!_

“Hey boss-man, you left your keys at my desk,” Charlie called from the lobby. 

“Bless you, Charlie!” he roared back. 

“Do you want coffee for the road. Just finished a new pot.” 

“Yeah, can you pour it in the travel mug?” 

“Roger that. I sent your tickets and boarding pass to your phone.” 

Castiel's smartwatch buzzed two new notifications.

“American Airlines?” 

There was an awkward pause. 

“They didn’t have any later flights—” 

“You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t use—” 

“I know how you feel about Delta--” 

“What about the flight home at least?” 

“American Airlines, I promise.” 

“Thank God!” 

“Clock’s ticking, Cassy! You almost ready to head out?” 

“Yeah. Just trying to find my charger. Have you seen it?” 

“You never cleaned your office, did you?” 

Castiel elected not to answer. It was his office. If it looked like a open grave, that was his business. He flung open the last drawer of his desk and rooted around in a blind panic. He was not about to miss his flight over a missing laptop charger! 

He shoved the small stack of gym clothes off his desk chair and gave a muffled cheer at the charger coiled proudly beneath it. He tossed it into his backpack and headed to the closet for the garment bag he'd stashed inside. He half-unzipped it and heaved a sigh of relief. With the way his night was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find the suit in shreds or filthy. 

He grabbed the garment bag and backpack and strode to the door. When he opened it, he found Charlie waiting on the other-side, arm still outstretched toward the knob. Her eyes were crinkled into an apologetic smile. 

“So, I just got off the phone with the social services. They’re 10 minutes out with a Little they need you to see.” 

Castiel opened his mouth, but Charlie kept speaking. 

“They found him on the side of the road in a broken-down, abandoned car. He’s Dropped but his ID doesn't show any Little classification. No record of any guardian. Cas...” Charlie heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, I know you need to leave for the conference. You always make it every year. You're a speaker this year and everything!” 

Castiel set his backpack and garment bag down with a resigned thump.

“This is what I’m here for.” He reached for the coffee cup she was holding and gave a weary smile. “Better start another pot, Bradbury. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

* * *

“Come on, let’s go.” 

Dean jerked away from the tight grip encircling his arm, a miserable whine escaping his throat. The Mean Lady glared down at him impatiently and quickened her pace. 

She herded him into a large room and hauled him over to a tall table. “Let’s get you up. The doctor needs to examine you.” 

_NO!_

Dean balked and let out a cry. Doctors were scary. He didn’t want anyone touching him. Hurting him. Da only brought him to doctors when he was bad and needed fixin'. 

“Nooo!”

He managed to escape the hurty fingers and dove under the table. He huddled close to the wall and brought his knees up tightly against his chest in a protective shield. 

“Come out! You need to listen!” 

Dean closed his eyes tightly, hot tears leaking from the corners. He sniffled tightly, his breaths coming fast and painful. He wanted the scary Mean Lady to go away! 

The woman kept talking, her voice angry and loud. Dean pressed sticky hands against his ears and rocked, trying to imagine himself away. He wanted his Samma. 

Dean sucked in a tight sob and cracked his eyes open at the sudden silence filling his ears. The Mean Lady was gone and the room was quiet. He started at the face suddenly staring back at him. A man knelt down and sat cross-legged across across from his hiding place. He was smiling. Dean stared hard at the bright blue eyes before quickly looking away. He buried his face in his knees, but peeked up again curiously. What did the stranger want? He didn't look angry and mean like the lady.

“Hi, Sweetie. My name’s Castiel. I have a friend I want you to meet.” 

Dean felt his chest jump at the bright blue bunny the man set before him. It looked soft and fuzzy. He wanted to touch it! Hug it. 

“This is Mopsy. She really wanted to meet you. What’s your name, honey?” 

Mopsy scooted closer to Dean. He reached out and snagged a long silky ear. He buried his face in the ears and sniffled. He didn’t want to talk. He wasn’t ‘sposed to. Daddy hit him when he couldn’t talk right. 'Sides, he never talked at the Doctor. Da always talked for him. 

“Honey? Can you tell Mopsy your name?” 

“D-Dean,” he whispered into Mopsy’s fur. 

“Hi, Dean, that’s a great name! Mopsy and I are very happy to meet you.” 

Dean stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked hard. He wanted to go home. He wanted Baby. 

“Dean, you’ve got some owies I want to fix. I want to make you feel better.” 

Dean squirmed further back. 

“Mopsy wants to come sit up on the table in her special spot. Can you help her? She can't reach by herself.” 

Dean regarded Mopsy. She didn’t seem like she wanted to sit on the table. Why would she want that? 

“Can you put her in her special spot? Can you be my big helper?” 

Dean found himself wiggling out from beneath the table. He tottered upright and pushed Mopsy up on the tall table. He whined at the loss. He didn’t want to lose Mopsy! He wanted to keep hugging her.

“How about you come sit with her so she’s not lonely?” Dean’s lip wobbled as Castiel picked him up and sat him beside Mopsy. He sat shivering, eyes jerking about the large room. The table felt too high. He was gonna fall!

“Here you go, sweetheart. Let’s warm you up.” 

Dean snuggled into the blanket and hid his face in the warm folds. 

“Okay, buddy, want to try a paci? Nice and sweet?” 

Dean poked his face up enough to study the pink paci the man offered. He opened his mouth a crack to let the man pop it inside. He instantly clamped his mouth shut again at the sweet taste bursting in his mouth. He suckled happily with Mopsy and the blanket in his arms. 

He stopped suckling briefly at the funny feeling creeping over him. He felt warm and fuzzy. His eyes kept closing. He blinked hard and snuggled Mopsy closer. 

“Let’s lie you down, honey. Shsh, it’s okay.”

Dean curled up on the table, too sleepy to even fight the large warm hand stroking his forehead. 

*** 

Castiel hated himself. He never enjoyed using drugs on his patients. It always felt too much like lying. 

Still, Dean was far too traumatized and jumpy to examine traditionally. There would have been no way Dean would have let him touch him or treat any injuries while fully awake. The sedative was very light; just enough to make Dean relax and lie quietly. With luck, he wouldn’t even remember the experience. 

Castiel kept the boy snuggled in the blanket, only revealing each body region as he examined it. When he was done, he covered each portion back up. The boy lay quietly, suckling at the pacifier and grasping the blue bunny like a life-line. His eyes were half-mast and glazed. He didn’t seem to be watching Castiel or aware of what he was doing. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. The less Dean noticed, the better. He had no desire to traumatize the Little further. Enough damage had been done. 

That much was obvious. It hadn’t taken long in his exam to spot the abuse and neglect. 

The Little was filthy from head to toe with greasy hair and skin that was tacky with old sweat and grime. Red blisters stood out brightly on his arms and legs. Cigarette burns—old and fresh. Castiel gently palpated the sunken belly, wincing at the hard protrusion of each rib. Castiel braced himself and cut the old, soggy boxers away. He dreaded what he feared lay hidden. Sharp pelvic crests rose from Dean’s hips, further evidence of long-term malnourishment. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath. Nearly every inch of skin beneath the underwear was red and blistered, oozing crusted pus. There was no way he could call this diaper rash. This was hell. 

Cellulitis. It would be a miracle if the boy wasn’t already septic with infection. 

Dean whined at Castiel gentle touch. He cringed and pulled back from his patient. He needed reinforcements. Stat. 

Charlie entered several moments later, face grim at the site of the emaciated Little in their care. Castiel gave her a terse overview of Dean’s condition. Her eyes darkened at the news and flashed with hot anger. 

“We need pictures of him—catalog every trace of abuse. Social services came to us. We’re going to give them more than enough to put away who ever did this to Dean.” 

Charlie nodded stoically and went to work snapping careful pictures of Dean’s battle scars. Castiel didn’t miss the faint glimmer of moisture in her eyes as she worked. He smiled sadly. Charlie’s fun, sassy exterior was a careful shell for her fierce protectiveness and tender spirit. At her heart she was a defender by nature. Woe to anyone that dare stand in her way. 

He breathed a steadying sigh and focused on his own task. He tightened a rubber tourniquet on Dean’s bony arm and held his breath as he waited for a vein to pop. The boy was just so dehydrated. Starting an IV was going to be a nightmare. Castiel frowned at the faint scarring of old needle tracks on Dean’s inner arm. Drugs? Surely he hadn’t been using. It was unthinkable for Little to use illicit substances. It effected them far worse than a normal adult or teen. He made a mental note to run several blood panels to search for the presence of any drugs. 

Dean whimpered and weakly yanked his arm away, but Castiel kept it still in a firm grip. The first IV failed. The vein simply wasn’t there. 

“Shsh, honey, I’m so sorry. I know.” 

Castiel managed the IV start the second try but hated himself at the obvious pain lining Dean’s face. He wished he’d had time for a topical analgesic to numb the arm. With Dean facing possible sepsis, he needed the IV ASAP for fluids and antibiotics. He’d make it up to the boy, he promised himself. 

“Okay Cas, pictures done, I’ll go start the blood cultures and panels, yeah?” 

“Yes, please. One quick thing. Can you pull a Liter of NS and a pump? We’ll start a broad spectrum antibiotic too while we wait for the cultures. There should be a piggyback of amoxicillin in the med room.” 

“I’ll grab them. BRB!” 

Castiel managed the ease the pacifier from Dean’s lips. The boy kept suckling, scarcely noticing the absence. Castiel added a fresh dose of sedative with the sucrose syrup and popped it back in. He needed Dean very sedated for the treatment. He was not going to subject him to the pain and trauma of treating the cellulitis while he was awake. No Little deserved that. 

After several moments, Dean’s chest was rising and falling is slow, drowsy rhythm. His eyes were closed and his muscles were relaxed. Castiel braced himself. He completely removed the remains of the boxers and exhaled at the full reveal. Twenty minutes later, he was still carefully irrigating the weeping sores with sterile saline. It took a small eternity, but when he was satisfied with how clean he’d managed to get the sores, he began dabbing on a layer of antibiotic ointment. He placed a fresh diaper beneath Dean’s hips but didn’t fasten it shut completely. He’d rather the wounds stay as open to air as possible to prevent further maceration. 

Charlie finished setting up the IV pump and attached the primary bag and piggy back medication. She smiled at Castiel’s work. 

“Looking good boss. We’ll get those sores healed up.” 

Jeanine Matthews chose that moment to pop into the room. She stared hard at the scene. Castiel stepped in front of her view subtly. Dean deserved some measure of privacy. He was still passed out. He looked so delicate and fragile with the IV tubes and pale, battered skin. Castiel wished he could just ignore the Social Worker. He had work to do and that didn't include playing hostess to the irate woman. 

“How is he doing?” 

“He’s been abused. How do you think he’s doing?” 

“Charlie,” Castiel murmured. She shot him an irritable look. 

“Dean is in a very vulnerable state. He has a severe skin infection—cellulitis—from untreated diaper rash. I’m concerned it may have already passed into his blood stream so I’m treating him with IV antibiotics. Also, there’s clear evidence of abuse—cigarette burns, starvation, neglect.” Castiel paused his work to meet the social worker in the eyes. “We’ve photographed everything. There is plenty of evidence to convict whoever did this to Dean.” 

Jeanine gave a thin smile. “We have every intention of bringing justice. The fact that Dean was found abandoned with no identification is already heavy proof. He should be classified. Littles his age that aren’t formerly classed are extremely rare. It gives every impression that someone was actively working to conceal and neglect his needs. We take that very seriously. We’re working to find any living relatives—anyone potential suspects, really.” 

Castiel nodded. “I’ll need to keep him a week at least if I'm going to treat him correctly. You’ve no plans to move him to a hospital or State care correct?” 

“I’ll allow him to stay under your care here, but someone stays with him at all times. He’s in protective custody, understand?” 

“I expect nothing less,” Castiel bit back. 

On his wrist, his watch began vibrating. He glanced down just long enough to see the boarding notification chime cruelly at him. His plane was leaving without him. 

On the table, Dean began to stir. He whined weakly, not much more than a thin mewl of pain. He curled in on himself around his bunny. Castiel smiled grimly. If he was going to miss his conference, there was no better excuse. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's condition worsens....physically and mentally. Castiel tries his hardest not to panic--with mixed results.
> 
> Edited: 10/5 (general spelling, grammar, and story flow) No beta #weDiLkeMne  
> Also, I added an endnote with some medical info on Dean's condition. I realized that it may be a bit confusing for those not familiar with medical terms.

“Cassy, you’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours straight.” 

Castiel took a long sip of coffee and savored the liquid heat settling to the back of his throat. Coffee had magical powers and no one would every be able to convince him otherwise. 

“ _Castiel_ _!_ ” 

“ _Charles_ _!_ ” 

The woman let loose a snorting giggle at the nickname and Castiel smirked at his victory. His assistant was undeterred, however, and recovered quickly. 

“I’m serious, Boss-man. You need sleep. You’re looking a little corpse-like. Full-on Dawn of the Dead.” 

“So do you,” he argued. “You’ve been here just as long as me. Dean needs close monitoring; I wouldn’t feel right leaving all of that on you.” 

He sipped at his coffee and eyed the crib against the far wall of their inpatient nursery. The room wasn’t used very often under normal circumstances. Most Littles in their practice required little more than well-Little check-ups and the occasional outpatient treatment. They reserved their inpatient nursery for over-night stays following more invasive procedures that required closer observation. It was rare for either of them to stay over-night with patients. 

“I’m okay with trading off with you. Stay till midnight if you want then head home and catch a few. I’ll switch with you mid-morning,” Charlie pressed. The corners of her eyes were wrinkling softly with concern. Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but an alert pinged brightly on his phone. He braced himself and swiped the email alert open. 

“Labs just came back—the first panels anyway. Dylan rushed them for us. ” 

“Aww, knew I didn’t hate that guy! He’s actually pretty useful when he doesn't have his head up his--.” 

“Charlie!” 

She grinned and peered over Castiel’s shoulder. Together, the pair began reviewing the results. They got as far as the white blood cell count before Castiel had to stop and grit his teeth. “He’s septic alright. Those numbers are sky-high. Lactic acid is 5.” 

“It’s a miracle his blood pressure wasn’t already swirling in the toilet. He should have been in shock.” 

“He seems surprisingly resilient all things considered. He shouldn’t be as stable as he is,” Castiel murmured thoughtfully. 

A mewling cry trailed from the crib and a frail hand thrashed after managing to escape the snug folds of the blankets swaddling him. 

Castiel instantly started over, but Charlie gave him a playful push back into his desk chair. 

“His pain meds are fading. I’ll tend to him. You just keep reading. You’re the one that’s supposed to be forming the plans and calling shots. Finish those labs.” 

Castiel shot her a grateful smile and forced himself to go back to his phone. His feet tapped restlessly as Dean’s cry grew louder. He caught himself looking up several times. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Charlie. She was more than capable of caring for any Little including Dean. He couldn't shake the restless ants skittering over him. He wanted to be with Dean and see his condition for himself. 

Castiel cursed and scrolled back several pages after suddenly realizing his brain had sailed into autopilot. He had no clue what he’d just read. What was wrong with him? His anxiety wasn't new. It had been an ever-familiar friend all throughout medical school and residency. It was a huge part of why he'd pushed himself so hard and why his instructors had praised him for always having all the answers. His rattling nerves weren't doing him any favors at the present, though. He needed to focus.

ETOH: 0.3% 

_Wait, what?_

Castiel’s chest collapsed like rubble in an earthquake. Surely he’d read the result wrong! Dean was a Little. Little didn’t drink. They _couldn’t_ drink. Little designation was firmly stamped on every ID in the US. Bars and markets were legally required to card every alcohol purchase. With the fines and penalties so high, there was no way anyone would willingly sell alcohol or tobacco products to a Little. Biologically, both substances and a host of illicit drugs effected Little metabolism significantly beyond what a normal neutral adult experienced. One drink for a normal, neutral adult could land a Little on their back. How had Dean managed to consume so much alcohol? Surely no one had willing sold it to-- 

Oh.

Castiel wanted to smack himself. Dean was technically unclassified. His ID didn’t have any indication of Little class. He was obviously living off the grid or was very good at hiding his true headspace. Probably both. Nothing would have stopped him from buying whatever he wanted. Why would he want to drink so much, though. 

That statement raised a host of other unpleasant questions. Why would Dean be drinking so hard? Why didn't he have a caregiver to stop him and keep him safe? Dean clearly had some level of alcohol tolerance. He’d been drinking a lot for a long time. He hadn’t even appeared intoxicated; if he had, the symptoms had been masked under the infection and trauma. 

Castiel began rehashing a mental note of the new treatment protocols needed. For Dean to be withdrawing on top of a sepsis diagnosis.... 

Dear God. This Little belonged in an ICU not an outpatient clinic. Jeanine would need to be called. She was going to rant when she heard about the alcohol. 

“Cas!” 

Charlie's sharp cry smacked Castiel out of his musings. He jumped up and ran to her side, eyes taking in the scene with a sort of horrified dread. Dean’s frail arms and legs were moving in jerky twitches. Tears trickled down his face and mixed with the pink foamy saliva escaping his lips. His eyes were glazed and sightless.

“He bit his tongue when the seizure started,” Charlie muttered. She held Dean gently on his side, her watch held up in easy view. “It’s only been a minute or so. I thought it was just a bad dream at first. Stupid.” 

“Any sign of vomit or aspiration?” 

“Nope, thank God.” 

“I’ll grab the suction just in case with some O2. His sats are holding pretty good—93% isn’t horrible.” 

Castiel returned with the suction tubing and a cannula. He quickly went to work setting up both systems, eyes trained on Dean for any sign of complication. The seizure was fading. The taunt muscles stopped jerking and Dean’s body went still. Castiel tucked the nasal cannula under Dean’s nose and eased the oxygen up as Charlie suctioned Dean’s mouth free and examined Dean’s tongue. 

“He’s withdrawing,” Castiel finally admitted. 

“Wait, from what?” 

“I just saw his ETOH lab. 0.3%.” 

“Holy--” 

“I know, Charlie. It’s bad. Really bad.” 

“How did we not see it? I mean, I knew he was sick, but 0.3%! He shouldn’t even have been awake earlier.” 

“He’s clearly built up some tolerance. He’s been drinking for a while. I’m thinking he’s pretty early in the process. The withdrawal is only going to get worse. We’ll start him on some Ativan to head it off.” 

“I’ll grab it. He’s ready for a fresh bag of saline too. Want me to start a banana bag instead?”

"Saline first to keep his blood pressure stable. We'll switch it out in an hour or so if he's still stable."

Charlie nodded and reluctantly left Dean’s side and headed to the med room for the supplies. 

Castiel heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. The was going to be literal Hell for everyone involved. Dean didn’t deserve this. 

“Okay, sweetie, let’s check you out real quick. We’ve missed some things,” Castiel murmured. He un-swaddled Dean and pulled down the gown to get a look at his abdomen. He gently palpated it and was relieved to find no masses or swelling. He'd half-expected to see a swollen liver bulging out from Dean's right ribs. Instead, his stomach was so sunken, he could count every rib. He would need to finish reviewing the labs. He could only pray Dean’s liver enzymes weren't off the charts. The last thing this baby needed was liver failure on to of everything else. Still, if Dean had been drinking long and hard, it was a definite concern. 

Castiel began easing the diaper off. It was soaked through with dark urine. He quickly began cleaning Dean off the best he could without irritating the weepy sores. It didn’t seem to matter how careful he was being. Dean began sobbing the moment the cold wipe touched his raw skin. 

Castiel breathed through the sharp ache in his chest and quickened his pace. He needed to get this done. 

Dean’s eyes flickered open, tears overflowing as he tried to squirm away. 

“I know honey,” Castiel murmured. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying to be gentle, I promise.” 

“Staaahp!” 

Castiel froze at the weak voice. He stared hard at Dean’s glassy eyes. They looked odd; half-aware, half addled as if Dean was only partially conscious. 

“Honey, can you understand me?” 

“P-Please... please stop!” Dean croaked. He batted at Castiel’s hands weakly, missing completely. 

“Dean, my name’s Castiel. I’m a doctor and I’m trying to help. Are you Big right now?” 

“Cas, I went ahead and drew up the first dose. I’ll flush the IV and give it if that’s cool with you.” 

Castiel quickly swiveled around and shot Charlie what he hoped was a warning look. She paused and stared hard at him and then at Dean. 

“What’s up, boss-man?” she whispered. Castiel started to answer, but Dean’s cries drowned him out. Castiel turned back and found Dean back down into Little space. The tiny fraction of Big that had been trying to surface was clearly gone. 

“He was coming up for a second. I thought he was going to go Big on us.” 

“Yikes. That’s the last thing he needs right now,” Charlie muttered as she went to work on Dean’s IV. I can’t imagine how bad he’s going to feel if he decides he wants to do this Big. At least if he stays Little, he won't remember much of this."

“I’m not sure he has a choice. We have no idea of how in control of his ‘spaces he is.” 

* * *

Castiel collapsed back at his desk and let his head fall into the cradle of his arms. The excitement from the seizure had faded. Dean was resting quietly courtesy of the medication they kept pumping into him. He was on his second dose of antibiotics and his vitals were stable for the moment. Charlie had headed home under noisy protest after Castiel all but forced her to take the first sleep shift. He would trade with her at 6 am and go home to sleep. Charlie had been anything but pleased with the decision, but the steely glare in Castiel’s eyes had been enough to convince her that arguing would be futile. She vented her frustration by brewing a fresh pot of coffee and slamming the mug down in front of Castiel with a curse that sounded suspiciously alien. 

“Was... was that Wookie? 

“It’s _Klingon_ , you ignorant churl!” Charlie roared as she stomped out the front door. “I’ll be back at 6 then you’re going to bed or so help me, I’ll start tranq’ing your butt." 

The clinic went silent and Castiel felt himself relax for the first time. Dean was nowhere near out of the woods, but he had a working plan in place and everything seemed to be flowing as well as could be expected. There was no way he could keep Dean. The boy needed a fully-functional hospital. Jeanine wasn’t going to be happy. 

Castiel sighed and took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue raw. He cursed Charlie and glared. She was probably laughing at him that very moment. 

He spent the next hour checking up on Dean and typing his notes for the evening. It was a messy stew of complications and treatment. He couldn’t help but think back to earlier that evening when the most complicated problem on his plate was treating a simple UTI. 

Several hours later, Castiel had exhausted the coffee supply and finished his notes. He returned from reviewing Dean’s monitors and melted into his chair. His eyes burned. He rubbed them, but it only served to worsen the stinging pain. He let them close for moment to soothe the ache. 

They shot open as a screeching alarm burned his ears. He jerked upright, drool trickling down his chin. He stumbled upright, rubbing at his stubble in confused panic. Pale early morning light was trickling in through the windows. What time was it? 

His gaze landed on Dean’s crib across the room. The IV pump was screaming, as was the heart monitor and pulse oximetry monitor. He rushed over and stared into the empty crib, panic oozing up inside him like black water. He grabbed the freed IV catheter and stared about frantically. Dean had pulled the IV out and ripped free from the heart monitor, oxygen, and pulse ox. Somehow, he’d even managed to escape the crib.

_What the ever-loving hell!_

He couldn’t have gone far. Surely, he was far too weak and confused to manage a long trip. Castiel dropped to the floor and peered under the crib. Nothing. He turned his search to the rest of the nursery. Underneath the changing table on the other side. Behind the dirty linen hamper. Inside the dirty linen hamper. 

Castiel heard himself wheezing for air as panic closed in around him. He’d lost his patient. He’d been entrusted with the sickest, most traumatized Little he’d every cared for and he’d managed to lose him! 

Castiel ran to the last possible hiding place. He froze outside the closet door. It was cracked open. The faintest sniffling managed to escape. Dean! Castiel forced himself not to burst inside. He couldn’t risk scaring Dean to death by rushing in, guns blazing’. 

Very carefully, he knelt down outside the door.

“Dean, sweetie, it’s me Castiel. I’m a doctor. I want to make sure you’re safe and okay.” He paused and waited for a reaction of some type. Anything. 

Silence. 

“I’m going to come in now. Okay?” 

Castiel eased the door open with a soft squeak. Inside, Dean was huddled in the far corner behind a rack of medical supplies. His face was buried in his knees and his arms were wrapped tightly about himself like a shield. The ripped diaper was lying in a soaked heap nearby. 

“Dean?” 

There was a choked whimper. It sounded like a puppy dying. 

“Dean, honey. Can you understand me? Are you Big right now?” 

Dean peeked up from behind his knees and Castiel had all the confirmation he needed. Dean wasn’t Big. He wasn’t Little. 

He was _both_. At the same time.

His heart sunk. 

_In-betweening_.

Oh, Fudge.

The term went sour in Castiel's mind like a mouthful of rancid milk. Dread filled him. Dean was in-between head spaces. 

"Dean, let's get you back in bed. It can't be comfortable on the floor like that."

Dean's fingers crept into his mouth as tears began to floor down his sunken cheeks. Castiel abruptly noticed the sea of light freckles scattered across Dean's cheeks. He was so sheet-white they stood out like tiny islands.

"Dean?"

"Where am I?" he croaked. He was sucking at his fingers hard, but he didn't seem aware of that fact. His eyes were blown wide with suspicion and fear. 

"You're at a doctor's office--mine actually. You're not well Dean."

The boy gave a pained moan and curled in on himself. 

"Feel sick," he cried.

Castiel winced at the sudden round of violent gagging. There was nothing in Dean's belly to bring up except for a tiny puddle of yellow bile and mucous. The boy seemed to collapse on himself when the heaving finally stopped. 

"Okay, sweetie, let's get you back in bed."

Castiel scooped Dean up and hustled him back to his crib. Dean was sobbing weakly, little more than frail gasps. He set Dean in the crib and stripped off the soiled gown, _shsh'ing_ and _hmm'ing_ gently as he worked. 

"It's okay, Dean. _Shsh_ , I know this is scary. You're being such a good, brave boy. Let's get you nice and warm again."

Castiel eased a fresh gown over the shivering boy and began swaddling him tightly. He'd skip the diaper for now. He'd been a pediatrician long enough to know when to skip certain battles. He'd take care of the diaper as soon as Dean fully dropped again.

Dean's cries faded as the blankets tightened. He lay with eyes half-mast. They were still watching Castiel suspiciously. 

"Not a baby," he grunted.

Castiel paused and regarded the boy carefully. In-betweening was incredibly frustrating and nearly impossible to navigate. Castiel had heard plenty of seminars on managing it. He'd studied the peer-reviewed papers. He'd even given a few short talks on it several years ago at an international Little Behavioral Health symposium. All that didn't seem to matter. He'd never felt more lost than he did staring into Dean's frightened and challenging eyes. 

Did he cater to Dean's fragile Little side and soothe and gentle him with Little talk and cuddling?

Did he treat Dean like the adult he was fighting to be and explain how sick he was and what treatment he was getting? 

"You don't feel Little right now?" Castiel finally pressed. He'd opt for reflection--turn Dean's words and feelings back on himself to give the boy the chance to clarify. 

"Not a baby!" Dean ground out, fighting to free himself from the snug blankets. He suddenly paused his fighting, eyes scrunching shut in pain. 

"Dean," Castiel began carefully. "You're very sick right now. I want to give you something to help--something to make the pain go away." Dean's eyes cracked open but he was breathing heavily through the pain. He was listening. 

"I need to put your IV back in so I can give you the medicine really quick. It'll work fast," Castiel explained carefully. Dean hesitated before giving a jerky nod. At least he was Big enough to know he needed help. 

"Okay, sweetie, let's get this over with."

Dean managed to lie still through the new IV. Several minutes later the IV was reconnected and Castiel was pushing a fresh dose of Ativan.

"This is going to help you sleep and relax. You won't feel anything. I'm also giving you some medicine for the pain too--just a little Morphine. Not much because I don't want it interacting with the Ativan. You'll still feel it faster and it'll be stronger than a pain pill." 

It chaffed Castiel to speak to Dean in such a clinical, mature tone. Dean was a Little! He didn't need explanations; he needed reassurance and gentling! Dean seemed to be only half-listening. His adult half was listening. The Little half was sucking at his thumb in confusion and trying to curl deeper into the blankets and away from the pain and fear. 

Castiel finished the medication administration and regarded Dean carefully as he waited for the drugs to take effect. Gently, he eased the nasal cannula back under Dean's nose. The boy didn't fight the oxygen. Castiel taped the pulse ox back onto Dean's fingers and sighed in relief at the 96% flashing on the monitor. Dean's condition seemed relatively stable all things considered. His escape hadn't harmed him too badly. 

"It's okay, honey. You can sleep." 

Dean glared and rubbed at his eyes violently. "Not... baby," he slurred. Castiel dimmed the lights and took a seat next to Dean's crib. 

"I'm right here, Dean. You're safe. Just rest."

The Little lost the battle. Castiel watched the boy's eyes glaze and lose their fight. Dean didn't fight the pacifier Castiel eased between in lips. His eyelids finally slid shut and all went still and quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick info and explanations on some of Dean's medical care:
> 
> *Sepsis - a systemic infection that usually starts from something smaller like a UTI (urinary tract infection), infected wound, pneumonia, etc. The infection travels the bloodstream and spreads throughout the whole body. The body sometimes will go into "shock" with the blood pressure going very low. This prevents vital organs (brain, heart, kidneys, etc.) from getting enough oxygen and nutrients. The patient may then start showing signs of organ failure. In Dean's case, he suffered a severe skin infection (cellulitis) from severe, untreated diaper rash. He technically has sepsis due to his lab results. His white blood cells were very elevated (sign of severe infection) and his lactic acid is also elevated. If his blood pressure were to start dropping and have difficulty coming back up, he would be classified as being in "septic shock."
> 
> *Lactic acid is a metabolic waste product that occurs when the tissues are not getting enough oxygen and blood flow. It accumulates in the blood and is used to track the severity of sepsis. 
> 
> *Banana bag - a special IV fluid that has B vitamins and other substances mixed inside. It's used for patients with strong history of alcohol (ETOH) misuse or those that are currently withdrawing from high levels of intoxication. It's believed the B vitamins are needed to prevent serious neurologic complications from occurring as the withdrawal continues (Wernicke's Encephalopathy). Since those who misuse alcohol for long periods are often very deficient in B vitamins and electrolytes, this specialized IV fluid is needed to "top them off."
> 
> *Ativan - a benzodiazepine medication used to treat and prevent seizure in patients withdrawing from alchol. When patients withdraw from significant alcohol use, their body goes into a heightened state that is very prone to serious seizures. Cas is using Ativan to try and "calm" things down to reduce the risk of additional seizures and brain damage. 
> 
> *IV "piggyback" - a term describing a smaller bag of IV medication (usually an antibiotic) that is attached to a larger, basic fluid bag (Normal saline, etc.) and run together through the same IV tubing. Running something "piggyback" is a way of giving a medication at a steady rate over time.
> 
> *Liver failure - Long-term or severe misuse/overdose of alcohol and other drugs (Tylenol--acetaminophen) can trigger liver failure. Some forms of virus may also cause either temporary or chronic liver failure. The liver is super amazing and good at regenerating damaged portions, but over time, it can become scarred and less functional. It becomes "lumpy" and misshaped as portions lose their functionality. Because it is responsible for filtering out dangerous waste products such a urea and nitrogenous waste from protein breakdown, severe liver failure may allow these wastes to start building up in the blood. These wastes can ultimately cause neurological damage (hepatic encephalopathy). Castiel is concerned about Dean's liver because of his history of severe malnutrition and alcohol use. If caught early, liver failure can be better treated and stabilized. 
> 
> I think this should cover most of the possibly uncommon medical terms and concepts. If I missed something or you still have a question, give a shout in the comments. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's mind bounces between two dimension. Social Services pressures Castiel to deal with the fragile limbo... by any means necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 10/5 for general grammar, spelling, and story flow.

Charlie let herself into the backdoor of the clinic and crept to the break room. She knew she didn’t have to be quiet, but it felt morally wrong to make a ruckus so early in the morning—not when it was still so quiet and dim outside. 

She hoisted the strap of her massive purple thermos further up her shoulder. Today was a 'coffee-thermos-type' of day. Well, coffee thermos plus like 7 shots. Even with her stolen hours of sleep, the restless burn of exhaustion from the night before was still stinging her eyes. She couldn’t even imagine how exhausted Castiel must feel. _Martyr!_

She set her thermos down and promptly poured herself a steaming lid-full. She needed to be sharp and ready to relieve Castiel. God-knew what kind of day it would be. Dean’s condition could take a million turns. Then there was that social worker.... 

Charlie threw back the cap-full of coffee like a tequila shot and slammed it down hard. _Bring it!_

The office was dim and silent. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think was alone in the building. 

She found Castiel in the nursery rocking slowly in the cushioned rocking chair like all was right in the world. His eyes were closed but his face was still tense and alert. He was definitely not asleep. A swaddled bundle rested snugly in his arms, quiet and still. 

She crept closer and peeked into the bundle. Dean was resting calmly. The Little’s eyes were closed. He didn’t even seem to notice Charlie’s presence. A pacifier bobbed listlessly between his lips. 

“Boss-man?” 

Castiel’s eyes opened and he smiled faintly. 

“Morning, Charlie. Sleep well?” 

Charlie grinned and shook her head at her ridiculously self-sacrificing boss. He would never cease to amaze her. 

“I’m fine—all rested up! Ready and reporting for duty.” She gave a mock salute and eyed Dean carefully. He looked so peaceful and content. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him. 

“It’s been a night,” Castiel murmured. “He’s in-betweening.” 

Charlie froze, half-praying she’d heard wrong. 

“He’s been up and down—Big, Little, both. He’s finally Little now. Well, _Littler_ at least. I’m just grateful he’s finally resting. Every time I put him down, he starts fussing. He can’t stand being left alone. The rocking seems to help.” 

Castiel didn’t look ready to leave in the least. He seemed perfectly at home in the rocking chair with the Little. Nevermind his ever-growing sleep debt. Was he even technically safe to drive home?

“Cassy,” Charlie pressed. “You need to take off. Give me the run-down then get out of here. Those are some impressive designer bags under those big blues of yours.” 

Castiel heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his greasy curls. He seemed to unconsciously snuggle Dean closer as he began rattling off the most recent vitals and exam findings. 

Charlie noted the last dose of medications and began assessing the IV pump and the bright yellow baggy hanging above Dean. 

“Half-way through the banana bag now. He’s so depleted... it’s going to be awhile to get all his levels back up. His labs were all garbage.” Castiel intoned. “He can finish that and go back on saline and dextrose later today—just enough to keep him hydrated.” 

Castiel began to rise slowly, but froze when Dean let out a pained whine. Gingerly, he began to slowly bounce on the balls of his feet. The rocking motion seemed to calm Dean enough to stop the mewling. 

“I don’t want him eating anything just yet,” Castiel explained. “Not until we’re sure he’s out of the seizure risk. The IV should keep him.” 

Carefully, Castiel managed to settle Dean back into the crib, tucking the blankets tighter into firm swaddle. He nodded toward the doorway and Charlie followed. 

“I need to call Jeanine,” he muttered. “She doesn’t exactly know about the alcohol withdrawal. It’s just another nail in the coffin at this point. If she finds anyone that’s legally responsible for Dean’s welfare she’s going to crucify them for not having Dean classified and cared for. Alcohol intoxication in a Little is unforgivable.” 

“Think she’ll want him transferred?” 

“He belongs in a hospital—more resources, more staff, more care.” Castiel shook his head and glanced back at Dean. “He deserves better.” 

Charlie watched Castiel head for the office before turning her attention back to Dean. He was resting fitfully in the crib, but didn’t appear to be in any distress. He was sucking hard at the pacifier like it was his last lifeline. She did a quick assessment, careful not to wake him. Everything seemed in place. She began skimming through his medication chart and overnight vitals. 

She suddenly realized the quiet suckling behind her was gone. It was quiet. Too quiet. 

She glanced over her shoulder and found a pair of frightened green eyes staring back at her. The pacifier had been tossed away and Dean was currently working to free his arm of the IV tapped to his wrist. 

“Woah! Let's leave that in.” Charlie rushed to his side and rested a hand protectively over the IV site before Dean could tug the tape free. He let out an angry grunt and kept struggling. 

“No! Out!” 

“Dean, honey. You need this. Are you Big right now?” 

Dean didn’t answer. He grunted angrily and tried to squirm away, the blankets tugging free. 

“Hey, Cas! I need some help in here please!” 

Dean struggled free of the blankets and rolled away from Charlie’s hand. 

“Dean, you’re safe. Everything’s okay. I need you to calm down, sweetie.” 

*** 

Dean’s vision kept going fuzzy. The world tilted on its axis and his hearing sounded all wrong—like a cassette tape set on half the normal speed. The woman with the red hair was talking to him but her words didn’t make sense. It was all noise and static. She wouldn’t stop touching him! 

He managed to struggle free. His attention rocketed back to the suspicious tube trailing from his wrist. What were they pumping into him! He needed it out now! 

He grabbed at the tape for a second time and began tugging, ignoring the sharp sting of hairs on his arm. Nothing good every came from IV needles. The track mark scars on his arm were reminder enough. 

The woman’s voice had gone louder in emotion. She reached for Dean again but he batted her hand away. She wasn’t touching him! He squirmed away but tall metal bars block his path. What!? Was he in prison? His stomach heaved as he began to struggle upright. He’d climb the bars if he had to. 

Large, warm hands suddenly took hold of his wrists. They forced him flat onto the bed. He stared up at a pair of sad blue eyes. 

“Shsh, Dean, I need you to lie still. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re not well and we’re just trying to take care of you. Are you Big right now, Dean? Can you understand me?” 

Dean didn’t know why he didn’t answer. He couldn’t make his lips work well enough to form an actual word. All he needed was one word. One _'yes.'_ One _'get the hell off me!'_ Nothing came. 

Dean’s outraged grunts trailed off into a panicked whine. The doctor regarded him with a sad smile as if he was more disappointed with himself than Dean. 

Dean watched in a sort of horrified awe as Castiel tucked a soft cloth roll into his right hand and wrapped a cloth net over fist. He repeated the process with Dean’s other hand and then gently released both. Dean batted his hands in confusion before realizing what the man had done to him. He wasn’t even tied down, but his hands were useless now. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t have you pulling at your IV or anything else. These mitts are just to keep you safe for now.” 

Something hot and wet kept getting in Dean’s eyes. Anger bubbled up inside him hot and fierce. How dare this man! 

“Dean, are you Big right now? I need to know.” 

Words still wouldn’t come. It was like Dean’s brain had completely detached from his body. 

“Let’s try this,” the man continued. “You don’t have to talk. We’ll use 'yes' or 'no' questions. Nod your head for 'yes,' shake for 'no.' Can you try, honey?” 

It took Dean a half-moment to grasp the new communication method. He gave a shaky nod, chest heaving for desperate breaths of air. The bars around him seemed to be creeping closer every second. They were going to crush him.

“Are you Little right now, Dean?” 

Shake. 

“Are you Big?” 

Dean froze. He knew he wasn’t a stupid baby, but he definitely didn’t feel normal. Nothing about this was normal or right! Why was he feeling like this? What was wrong with him? Had the man done something to him? 

“Dean?” the man repeated. “Do you feel... different?” 

Nod. 

The man sighed wearily and gave a nod that looked surprisingly understanding. 

“I’m a doctor, Dean, and I’m taking taking care of you right now. You’re not well. I’m going to explain what’s happening, Dean. I’m going to use some Big words. If you don’t understand I want you to hit your bed with your hand and then I’ll stop. Okay?” 

Nod. 

“Show me how you’ll hit the bed if you need to.” 

Dean raised a shaky mitt and let it fall to his side. 

“Great job, Dean. Perfect!” 

Dean frowned. The man seemed so ridiculously proud of him over the smallest things. A bubble of warmth seeped in his chest, but he chose to ignore it. 

“You’re very sick right now with an infection,” the doctor explained. “You’ve also got a lot of alcohol in your system. You were drinking?” The man looked unhappy and Dean squirmed guiltily despite himself. He didn’t remember drinking anything, but his memory black-outs were a dime-a-dozen. Anything could have happened. 

“Do you have a caregiver, Dean?” 

Dean froze. There was no good answer for this. The doctor frowned slightly, his dark eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

“Did you know that you were Little?” 

“N-Not... baby!” 

Dean lay heaving, exhausted with the effort but proud of the words he’d finally managed. Castiel heaved a patient sigh. 

“Dean, biologically, you are a Little. I’m not sure if you’ve ever fully Dropped before, but you’ve been bouncing between Big and Little 'spaces since you’ve arrived. You’re not stable right now.” 

Dean’s vision went black around the corners. Rattling gasps filled his ears. 

‘ _What am I supposed to do with a baby? You’re a Winchester not a whiny brat!’_

“Dean?” 

_‘Thought I raised you better than this!’_

“Honey, I need you to look at me. You’re panicking.” 

_‘Grow the hell up or get out!_ ’ 

“Dean, I’m going to give you something to help you calm down. You’re too weak to get this stimulated. I'm afraid you'll have another seizure.” 

Dean was vaguely aware of the a cool rush of liquid within his wrist. The black in his vision grew into a heavy, blinding swathe. A large warm hand stroked across his sweaty hair as a warm bubble settled over him and swallowed him whole. 

“I’ll be right here, sweetie. Rest.” 

* * *

Castiel waited for Jeanine to speak. The pause kept growing, each moment sending a sick spike of guilt into his chest. 

"How long do you estimate the in-betweening to continue."

Castiel wanted to shake the woman by the shoulders. She'd completely missed the point! In-betweening had no real pattern or consistency. It did what it wanted. That was the issue!

"There is no way to know. In-betweening has a high correlation with emotional and physical trauma in Littles. Dean seems to have experience with both. He's predisposed. I'm not sure whether he's ever fully Dropped."

"There is treatment for this, correct? I've heard of medication to stabilize Little's mindsets and induce Little space."

Castiel gritted his teeth. 

" _Liteura_ is a very... _harsh_ treatment. It forces a Drop into Little space with no set time range of how long it could last. It's been known to last anywhere from days to at least 3 weeks. That's far longer than a normal Drop should last."

"But it's effective, correct? It will help stabilize Dean's head-space and allow you to continue treating him?"

"Yes, but--"

"I'll update his records. He'll remain in your custody for the foreseeable future until he is medically stable. He'll need to be officially Classified and placed with a temporary guardian. We're still investigating his past and looking for any family members--anyone that has information on his history."

"Have you found anyone yet?"

"We have records of a younger brother. College student. It's not clear how much he knows or whether he's directly involved in Dean's neglect and abuse."

Jeanine's eyes narrowed, her gaze razor-sharp. 

"It is inexcusable for a Little of Dean's level to suffer the kind of neglect and trauma he experienced. I will not allow him to be harmed again." She paused. "What is your early assessment of his head space? How old?"

Castiel hesitated. "It's too early to really tell. With his medical condition--"

"How. Old?"

"Young," Castiel sighed with a head-shake. "I would estimate his space to be around the 7-9 month range right now when he's fully Dropped. Once he's medically and emotionally stable, that age range may change. We'll have to wait and see."

"He'll be absolutely dependent on his caregivers though."

"Absolutely. With his diagnosis of in-betweening, he'll need close guardianship. It's going to affect his independence pretty significantly."

"You'll have no issue with testifying in a court setting regarding just how abusive his previous caregivers were? Not only avoiding his Classification and allowing him access to alcohol but also neglecting the medical care he badly needed?"

Castiel met the woman's eyes and gave a single nod.

Jeanine rose and straightened her navy pencil skirt crisply. She gathered her portfolio of paperwork and headed for the door. 

"I'm surprised you want Dean to stay here," Castiel interrupted. "Medically, he's not stable. We're just a clinic. He would do better in a hospital setting."

Jeanine's hand rested on the door knob. She stood silently contemplating her answer. Castiel was beginning to suspect she wouldn't answer at all. 

"His situation is unique," Jeanine answered, her words oddly precise. "Not that he was found abandoned in that car but rather _what_ he was found with. The police have asked me to be very discrete with this information. They're concerned the information will leak if he is placed in a more public setting such as a hospital. Too many people. Too many ears. Too many mouths. If it leaks, they may lose their legal edge on the case."

Jeanine leveled a heavy stare at Castiel. 

"I hope I haven't made a mistake trusting you and your clinic."

"Dean is safe with us. You have me word."

* * *

Castiel frowned at Dean's wrinkled brow. The Little was sleeping fitfully, head lolling from side to side. He looked anything but at peace. Was he dreaming? In pain? Castiel eyed the medication chart hanging beside the bed. Charlie had just given him a hefty dose of pain killers. Dean wouldn't be due for another dose for at least 4 hours. Castiel sighed and stroked the sweaty forehead gently and brushed the damp hair away. The little one could use some cleaning up--a sponge bath at the very least. He made a mental note. 

Dean let out an pained grunt and spat the pacifier free with a wail. His eyes were still closed but his forehead was deeply lined as he continued to sob. Castiel carefully scooped him up, mindful of the IV line. He settled into the rocking chair beside the crib and began humming softly as he'd done earlier that morning. It had seemed to calm Dean then. Maybe it would work again. 

Dean's cries increased as he pushed away from him with one hand.

"NO... _don't!_ " a slurred voice garbled. 

Castiel unconsciously tightened his grasp and Dean seemed to unconsciously respond to the sense of security. The Little went quiet as if he was listening to Castiel's tuneless humming. 

"Boss-man, did you want--"

Charlie's voice instantly cut off when she saw what Castiel was doing. He held up a finger in warning and she nodded in understanding. 

"Charlie..." Castiel hated himself. He looked down at Dean's restless face. The pained furrowing of his brow was gone, but the Little looked far from comfortable. "I need you to do me a favor," he finished. 

"Anything for you, Cassy."

"Draw up a dose of _Liteura_." He saw Charlie's face, but raised a hand before she could protest. "I know, I know. It's risky. It's controversial. I can't let Dean suffer like this anymore, though. I won't! Half the pain and trauma he's experiencing right now is directly from his headspace. If he could just fully Drop..."

"Cas, you don't have to explain yourself to me," Charlie murmured. Her eyes had gone soft with pain. "I trust your judgement. You'll do what's best for him."

"I hope Dean knows that one day," Castiel whispered, more to himself than anyone else. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean loses time and discovers just how Little he actually is... maybe it's not such a bad thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.... thank you so much to everyone who's left Kudos and especially comments. I'm so sorry for not responding to my comments--life's been sucker punching me. I'll do my best to be a better comment responder. It means so much to see you guys are enjoying this. Every kudo/comment lights up my whole day. Thank you! <3
> 
> Edited: 10/6 for general grammar, spelling, and story flow.

Dean knew he needed to fight. His father had trained him better than this. He'd been a soldier.

He felt the straining drive deep within him screaming over the dense fog entrapping him. He was Dean Freaking Winchester. He didn’t want anyone’s help. 

No, screw it. He didn’t _need_ anyone’s help. He hadn’t asked for this. What had the doctor called him? _Little?_

Dean’s gut churned with an emotion he couldn’t name. He’d heard the term "Little" before. He’d heard it a lot actually. He knew exactly what it implied. If anything, it made the implication all the harder for him to swallow.

Dean wasn’t a Little. He wasn’t anything. He was himself. That was all. 

_Liar...._

Dean shook his head to banish the ghostly voice. He knew it wouldn’t go away, though. It never did. 

He managed to struggle upright and free himself from the tight blankets cocooning him. He winced and froze at the sharp tug in his left arm. The IV was literal leash keeping him neatly trapped in the crib. He glared up at the small baggie of fluids slowly dripping. What was the doctor giving him now? Drugs to keep him sleeping and dumb no doubt. Dean’s mind flashed back to the first IV he’d managed to yank free the last time he'd been awake.

How long ago had that been? Dean's brain felt foggy and numb. It was disturbingly familiar. He always felt the hallow numbness after he'd lost time and went through a memory black-out. The blank voids that swallowed him up left him empty and fugue-like. They didn't happen often, but when they did Dean didn't forget them. 

“H-Hey!” he called. Broken glass filled his throat. He coughed hard, but his voice remained gravely and hoarse as though he hadn't spoken in a long time. 

Dean looked around the room irately and glared at the soft pastels and stuffed animals flooding his vision. A lullaby was droning out from somewhere. Dean looked up and found the source—a pink and blue star mobile spun slowly above him. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t quite tear his gaze off it. The slow, steady rotation was oddly therapeutic. Finally, after a ridiculous hesitation, he gave a huff of irritation and jerked his eyes away. 

He was suddenly face to face with the blue-eyed doctor. The man’s dark, stubbly face was warm with a quiet smile. Dean met his eyes once and promptly looked away. The blue eyes were invasive and knowing—as if the man could see every single thought in Dean's brain.

“Good morning Dean—afternoon really. You’ve been napping most of the day.” The man paused and cocked his head as if considering a serious question. 

“Are you Big right now, Dean?” 

“ _Big?_ Y-Yeah, ‘course I am. I’m a friggin’ adult.” 

Dean didn’t like the babyish stammer that kept creeping into his words. He never stuttered! 

Castiel seem to ignore his irritation. 

“I know you have questions,” the doctor murmured. “A lot has happened. Can you tell me what you last remember?” 

“R-Remember?” 

“You’ve been In-between headspaces quite a lot. I haven’t been able to tell how much you’ve actually understood up until now.” 

“In-between? Between what?” 

The ghostly voice of accusation from earlier was back. It kept whispering ugly things in Dean’s mind. Memories. Voices. Angry eyes. 

_Such a stupid brat! Can’t you grow the hell up for once in your life!_

“Dean?” 

_You’re not a baby, D, you’re a soldier. My right-hand man. How do you expect me to trust you if you can’t even stop from peeing yourself!? Your little brother acts older than you!_

“Dean? Sweetie, I need you to breath. Come on, _shsh_ , sweetie. You’re safe. You need to breath. I can see that you're having some really big, scary feelings. I’m right here.” 

Dean blinked hard, the pale pinks and yellows of the nursery flooded back over his vision. He felt himself rocking slowly in the crib, chest hammering and lungs gasping for air. 

“Dean, you had a flashback—bad memories. I know they were very scary, but they can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe.” 

Dean heard himself give an ugly, wretched sob. He bit his lip hard and savored the sudden metallic tang of blood. He wouldn’t cry. Babies cried. 

“Dean, are you still--” 

“I’m not a baby!” he burst. “I’m me!” 

“Of course you’re you,” the doctor murmured with a sad smile. Dean couldn’t even look at the smile; it was doing horribly things to his chest. All it did was make him want to cry harder. 

“When can I leave?” Dean managed to force out. 

“Where would you go, sweetie? You have a home—family?” 

“Need to see my brother.” A sudden jolt of fear hit Dean. He stopped rocking and stared wildly. “My phone! I need my phone. I have to call him!” 

“Your brother?” 

“I need to make sure he’s okay. I missed the check-in.” 

“Check-in?” the doctor repeated questioningly. 

“How long have I been asleep? I didn’t call him last night! I need to check-in with him!” 

“What happens if you don’t?” 

Dean wanted to punch something. He gritted his teeth. Was the doctor stalling? Playing dumb!? 

“P-Please,” he croaked. “Just give me my phone.” 

“Dean, you were hurt very badly,” the doctor began, his voice low and careful. “Someone hurt you. I can’t let that someone get near you again. I don’t feel safe with you calling—not when we don’t know who hurt you.” 

“S-Sam would never...” Dean swallowed hard. “It wasn’t Sam, okay. I-I need to keep Sam safe. Please, just let me call.” 

The doctor went quiet. Dean peeked up and looked at the deep blue eyes that were regarding him so intently. 

“I’ll let you call, but I need to stay here with you, okay?” 

Dean opened his mouth to argue long and loud. The doctor raised a hand quickly to stem the flood of opposition. 

“Dean, I’m willing to compromise because I can see how worried you are about your brother. I’m not putting your safety at risk, though. You’re still under my care.” 

“No one’s taking care of me!” 

“If I get your phone, will you promise to stay here and wait for me?” 

Dean seethed. It was like the doctor didn’t even hear him arguing. 

“Just get me my phone.” 

“Dean.” 

The pair sat in silence. Dean refused to look at the man. 

“Dean?” 

“Fine!” he muttered. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” 

Dean smoldered at the pathetic terms of endearment that kept stealing into the doctor’s words. _Sweetie._ _Sweetheart._ Was this guy for real?! 

When the doctor returned, he held up Dean’s phone with a meaningful look. 

“I’m trusting you to call your brother—only your brother. I’ll be right here if you need anything, okay?” 

Dean nodded stiffly and snatched the phone away. He powered it on and stared wide-eyed at the slew of unread texts flooding his phone. 20 missed calls. 20 voice mails. 

_Sam._

He dialed his brother and listened impatiently to the ringing. His skin felt too tight. He wanted to claw it off. The ringing droned on and Dean’s heart began to race. Why wasn’t Sam picking u-- 

“DEAN! What happ--” 

Sam’s voice was breathless and flooded with unspoken questions. 

“Poughkeepsie!” Dean shot back, quickly interrupting. He couldn’t let Sam speak freely—not with a perfect stranger just inches away. The phone wasn’t on speaker, but the man could probably still hear enough bits and pieces to string together an impressive and sketchy idea of what Dean’s life actually was. 

“Dean,” Sam began again, his voice carefully low and neutral. Dean heard the panic lying just beneath the surface. 

“Are you... are you in jail?” 

“No, worse. I--” Dean pulled the phone down slightly and looked at the doctor. “Wh-where am I?” he croaked. For a frightening moment, it looked like the doctor wouldn't answer. 

“My office, Dean--” 

Dean ignored the man's deflection and placed the phone back up to his ear. “Some doctor's place. They said they found me passed out in Baby somewhere.” 

“Dean, what’s happened? You’re not alone are you— _poughkeepsie_ _?_ ” Sam growled, clearly frustrated with the slow up-take. “You’re hurt aren’t you?” 

“Yeah...” Dean shot the doctor a frustrated look. He wanted to speak freely. He didn’t need a snoopy doctor spying on them! “I-I honestly don’t remember what happened,” Dean whispered. “It’s like I've been asleep... Bits and pieces, but nothing clear. I... I just needed to talk to you. Be sure you were okay. 

“You thought I was in danger?” 

“I-” Dean choked. “Yeah, I did. Just a bad feeling. You’re okay, though?” 

“Yeah, Dean, everything’s fine. You missed the check-in—over a week ago. I never heard anything from you. I freaked. Started imaging the worst.” There was a heavy pause. “Does Dad know where you are?” 

Sam’s words hung heavy. Dean swallowed past the rock stuck in his throat. He was suddenly aware of how awful he still felt. The diaper he'd been trying so hard to ignore was tight and itchy. He squirmed and wished with all his might he could tear the Godforsaken thing off and fling it in the doctor’s face. 

“I-I don’t know. I woke up and they won’t let me go.” 

Dean heard his voice trail off into a whine. NO! _No!_ He couldn’t slip again. He felt himself sinking beneath an undertow of emotion. 

“Dean, slow down,” Sam urged, voice gentle. “It’s okay.” 

“No! It's not! I c-can't think. Not like this.” 

“Dean,” a new voice was prying into Dean’s awareness. He glared at the doctor. The man’s face was lined with concern. He leaned forward and motioned to the phone. “Sweetie, I can talk to your brother—explain what’s happening if you’d like?” 

Dean clutched his phone closer like a shield. No! He wanted to scream. He didn’t need help talking to his own brother! 

“Dean, talk to me. What’s going on. I can’t help if you don’t talk.” 

“S-Sam... It won’t stop! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop it anymore.” 

Dean felt the doctor gently take the phone from him but didn’t have the energy to fight. He listened to the deep voice murmuring, but the words themselves were lost. He sank down into the crib. He was so weak. So pathetic. He should be able to make his own phone calls. Sam deserved better than this. 

“Dean, calm down a bit for me, honey. I’ll talk to Sam and then you can try again later if you’d like.” 

Dean curled into himself and sniffled. 

* * *

Castiel steeled himself for the inquisition that was about to be launched against him. He placed the phone against his ear and waited for the angry, berating voice that surely awaited. 

“DEAN, _dean_ , talk to me, please! Are you okay? Please, be okay.” 

The voice was surprisingly young—early 20’s at the oldest. The voice was full of fear, not anger. 

“This is Sam?” 

“Who is this?” 

“My name is Castiel Novak. I’m a pediatrician—I specialize in Little Behavioral medicine. I’m taking care of your brother.” 

“Why do you have Dean?” The voice still wasn’t angry, but the deep suspicion confronting Castiel was just as caustic. 

“Sam, were you aware that your brother was a Little?” 

The line went silent and for a frightening moment, Castiel suspected the boy had hung up. 

A deep sigh suddenly broke the silence. 

“You found out.” 

It wasn’t so much a question as an admission of guilt and resignation. 

“Sam, the police found your brother alone in a broken-down car. He was starving, dehydrated...” Castiel knew his words were accusing at best, but he needed answers. For a Little like Dean to be given such abysmal care! It was inexcusable—particularly if Sam had known about Dean’s fragile state and risk. 

“He was badly injured--injuries that are best explained by abuse. Dean is currently in my custody. I’ll be caring for his injuries and ensuring he’s safe and cared for until Social Services can arrange for his guardianship. You’re his family. They’ve been trying to get ahold of you—they need answers.” 

“What’s your address? I’m coming to get Dean.” 

“Sam, you can’t see Dean until SS talks to you first. They need to understand Dean’s situation. Decisions need to be made. Who’s Dean legal guardian right now? There aren’t even any records about his orientation.” 

There was a heavy pause. Finally, Sam spoke. “I’ll talk to SS... about all of that, but I need talk to Dean again. Now.” 

“You can talk to him, but I’m staying with him.” 

Sam gave a reluctant huff of agreement and waited for Castiel to pass the phone back. 

“Dean, sweetie, here’s Sam.” 

Dean managed to push himself back upright. He grabbed clumsily for the phone. Castiel winced. Little Space was swallowing Dean down. Again. The last dose of _Liteura_ had worn off, but Dean's fragile emotional state was sending him back into a full Drop. It wasn't ideal. Castiel would have preferred to have some time to talk to Dean and explain what was happening. Dean should have had some Big time after being in a medically-induced Drop for over a week. Still, Castiel knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. Dean was going Little again; that's all there was to it. 

“Sammeh,” Dean slurred into the phone. 

Whatever the boy’s brother said next, seemed to be exactly what Dean needed. He gave a small relieved smile and nodded. He listened a moment longer and then planted a sloppy kiss on the phone’s screen. “Bye, Sammeh!” He dropped the phone. 

“Dean, are you Little now?” 

The boy’s drowsy, befuddled expression was answer enough. Castiel sighed with frustration. Dean’s brief Big time could have been better spent. Jeanine would never let him hear the end of it if she found out. Guilt stung Castiel. He probably should have said no to the phone call. He could only imagine Jeanine’s face if she found out he’d let Dean break silence and contact someone—a suspect no doubt. Castiel frowned. No, Sam couldn’t be involved. From the interaction he and Dean had shared, it was clear they had a deep bond. Sam couldn’t have been the one to hurt Dean. Besides, he was supposed to be away in California at school. 

_Poughkeepsie._

It was clearly a code word. Dean had wasted no time using it. He’d been warning Sam of something—that their conversation wasn’t private no doubt. 

So maybe Sam hadn’t been the one to hurt Dean. He was clearly involved in something though—they both were. 

“Alrighty, then, Dean.” 

The boy looked up at him bleary-eyed. He cocked his head as if in deep thought and Castiel’s heart melted. 

“I bet you’re hungry. Let’s get you changed real quick so we can get some food in your belly.” 

Dean’s eyes brightened at the mention of food. He held up his arms and made grabby hands. Castiel chuckled and scooped him up, amazed at the new acceptance that filled Dean. The phone call had seemed to calm him. Dean was still a miserable shell but he seemed calmer—more stable somehow. When Dean was fully Little he seemed much more tactile--affection starved really. 

Castiel smiled into the soft brown hair tickling his nose. Dean had plastered his face into Castiel’s neck as he clung to him tightly. 

Dean had never seemed this Little before. Perhaps residual effects of the _Liteura_ mixed with Dean's own voluntary Drop? A loud suckling noise piqued Castiel’s curiosity. He eyed the boy and found him sucking eagerly on his fingers, eyes half-mast. 

Since the dose of _Liteura_ , Dean was no longer In-Between Spacing. He was fully Little and seemed content in his own skin. When he wasn't actively fighting his head space, Little Dean was actually relatively calm and eager for touch and affection. He was also woefully touch-starved. His eagerness for cuddles and rocking the past week was proof enough of that. 

“Okay, baby, let’s get you fixed up.” 

Dean snuggled closer in response. 

Castiel felt himself grinning with relief. Screw whatever Jeanine thought about him if she found about their conversation with Sam. The phone call had clearly been exactly what Dean needed to let go. 

Castiel’s first stop was the changing table. He set Dean down and the boy instantly batted at his foot, grabbing for the toes with wide, interested eyes. Castiel snorted at the sight. It was so pure and natural. He tried to superimpose the image of the scared, distrusting Big Dean over this new, peaceful baby. He couldn’t. They were completely different people. 

Castiel carefully maneuvered Dean into a fresh diaper. He eyed the rash shrewdly. The redness had faded mostly over the past week with only a few of the deeper sores still pink. Dean gave a soft whine at Castiel’s touch. 

“Oh, baby, I know. I’m sorry—just gotta make sure you stay nice and clean so you can heal.” 

Castiel finished layering a fresh coat of antibiotic cream on the remaining sores and strapped the diaper on snuggly. He rubbed Dean’s sunken belly and cooed softly down at him. Dean grinned up shyly and giggled at the soft touch. 

Castiel forced himself to ignore the hard ridges of Dean’s ribs beneath his touch. The boy was still so thin! No, not thin—skeletal. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Next stop, bottle.” 

Dean melted back into his embrace and they made the trek to the small kitchenette just down the hall from the nursery. 

Charlie met them in the hallway, a grin blooming across her face at the sight. 

“Aww, our buddy’s looking a lot happier now.” 

Dean promptly buried his face deeper into Castiel’s neck and gave a shy whine. 

“He’s fully Little now—came back up from the _Liteura_ and Dropped back down again. No more in-betweens.” 

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Charlie remarked with a sagely nod. “No more inner fighting—that's bound to make anyone miserable. 

“Would you mind fixing a bottle--double the formula. He needs calories. Bad.” 

“Of course! It's literally the least I can do...” Charlie gave him a chiding look. “Considering you aren’t even supposed to be here. I’ll fix the bottle and get him eating. Why don’t you just head home. You need sleep. You've been here practically day and night the past week.” 

“Charlie, I can’t. Not when he’s just now relaxing.” 

Charlie blew a sigh and shook her head. 

“Fine, you get him fed and cozy. I’m kicking you out of here by 3 though--early dinner then bed! You look like a zombie--surprised you haven’t scared the baby.” 

Castiel nodded with a wry smirk and headed back to the nursery. Dean didn’t seem to notice or care about the entire exchange. He was sucking on his fingers again. 

They made it back to the chair and Castiel began a slow rock. He felt Dean’s tense muscles slowly melt and Castiel smiled contentedly. He forgot about his aching back and throbbing skull—incessant reminders of how little sleep he’d gotten in the past days. His body hated him and he felt every day of his 34 years. He felt like an old man. 

“Special delivery,” Charlie murmured. She passed him the warm bottle and grinned, clasping her hands beneath her chin. 

“Boss-man, sometimes I forget you don’t have any kiddos of your own. You’re a freakin’ natural.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, no one wants an old, boring doctor.” 

Charlie snorted. “Old, gimme a break. Besides,” she shot him a wink. “I know at least a dozen friends who’d jump at the chance to snag a silver fox.” 

“I’m going grey!?” Castiel hissed in panic. A hand shot up to his messy curls. 

Charlie swaggered out of the room, cackling softly to herself. “Totally missing the point, Cassy,” he heard her murmur. 

Castiel shook his head wearily and adjusted Dean’s floppy figure. The boy gave a displeased whine at the movement and tried to snuggle deeper. Castiel grinned and managed to get him lying at a comfortable angle. He offered the bottle and Dean instantly latched on. The soft snuffling did something odd to Castiel's chest as he sat watching the boy. Dean looked up at him with large green eyes. They were dulled with pain and weariness, but something bright still glowed within them. Castiel found himself wishing with all his might he could see those eyes happy. 

Dean’s lids dropped to half-mast and finally slipped shut altogether. Dean continued suckling, but it wasn’t long before the nipple slipped free from his lips. Castiel sighed heavily in disappointment and regarded the bottle. Dean had only managed half the formula. It wasn’t nearly enough. He needed more calories!

He re-swaddled Dean and got him settled in the crib. He knew eating sapped Dean’s energy. He would let him rest, but they would need to try again in a few more hours. Frequent small feedings could still get enough calories in Dean if they planned it right. 

He slipped out the nursery door with a final smile at the boy tucked in the crib behind him. He headed for his office, pausing to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn. He stumbled inside and took in the familiar mess. 

He searched for his coat and keys in the mess and paused to swig down the last half-mug of cold coffee on his desk. He wrinkled his nose at the acrid taste. He needed it to get home though. Caffeine could be the only thing keeping him from plunging his car into a ditch. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets some unwanted TLC, Castiel tries to balance his responsibilities, and unpleasant legal questions begin to surface for Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 10/6 for grammar, spelling, and story flow.

“You let him talk to his brother."

It wasn’t a true question. It was a hacking, ax-sharp statement. Jeanine's voice could easily remove an ear or a finger if aimed just right.

In that gut-punching moment, Castiel was suddenly a fresh med school graduate just starting his first residency orientation. Cold anxiety clawed over him like grasping fingertips. His gut churned with self-doubt. 

He stared back at Jeanine and forced himself to meet her steely blue eyes. The woman’s face had gone worrying blank; her words frigid. 

“As you already known, Dean has been experiencing 'In-Betweening' since he arrived--unstable Headspaces that allow him to be Big and Little almost simultaneously. It's extremely psychologically traumatic for Little's. You know this as well as I do with your job experience. His mental state was concerning me and he was refusing care even with the _Liteura_ I administered. Talking with his brother soothed him and allowed him to express his feelings. He fully Dropped just moments after talking with him--no medication required. He’s fully Little now and much more amenable to care.” Castiel allowed himself to revel in the surge of authority that filled him. “Dean is my patient. I allowed what I felt was best for him.” 

Jeanine regarded Castiel in contemplative silence before giving a slow, acquiescing nod. 

“And you informed the brother regarding his responsibilities regarding our interviews and questioning? He’s still a suspect until proven otherwise.” 

“He’s aware now and he promised that he would speak to you and answer your questions. He was very concerned about Dean and he wants to be involved. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t sense him being involved with any of the abuse. He appeared very anxious and upset when I informed him about Dean’s condition.” 

“We’ll see how innocent he is. I've contacted him and scheduled a meeting with him today at 5. Given Dean's complicated situation, the meeting will no doubt be the first of many to get this nightmare sorted.” Jeanine clasped her hands together and nodded toward the nursery. “Now, how is Dean? I want an update on his current condition. Earlier, you couldn't take my call. You're tech informed me you couldn't step away?” 

“Dean's been having difficulty feeding. It's physically exhausting for him and he falls asleep very quickly when he's given a bottle. He hasn't been Big long enough to try normal foods either. When he's Little, he doesn't seem to have the swallow coordination needed for soft baby foods either. I'm assuming his Headspace is too young,” Castiel explained, absently running a hand through his bangs. He sighed and reached for his coffee cup. “He was losing weight too rapidly and showing early signs of electrolyte imbalances from malnourishment--potassium, magnesium, and thiamine were all critically low.” Castiel paused. The next statement was painful. “Also, his history of alcohol use meant his malnourishment was even more severe.” 

“And this is why Little's cannot drink.” 

Jeanine’s eyes flashed and Castiel swallowed back his anxiety. The woman's anger was hot and lethal and Castiel had the instant mental image of a snarling mother tiger defending a cub. Jeanine was a cold and unforgiving woman, but her rage was well-directed and justified. She was a defender.

“Our current plan is focused on stabilizing his electrolytes and promoting weight gain. Earlier when you called, I was in the middle of setting him up with an NG tube—a nasogastric feeding tube. It will deliver a set flow of high-calorie formula to help him pack some weight back on. We'll keep trying him on small bottle feeds to try and get him used to suckling." 

"Excellent. And the infection he came in with?" Jeanine prompted. She was scribbling rapid-fire notes on her gleaming tablet screen.

“The cellulitis from the diaper rash is clearing up well with the antibiotics. It's nearly healed and we’re keeping the area as clean as possible to prevent re-infection.. There’s no sign of sepsis now, thank God. We caught it just in time.” 

“What about his Headspace? Have you administered the official testing yet?” 

Castiel bit his tongue. He didn’t want to venture too deeply into this conversation—not when he still had no solid answers. 

“When he Dropped with the _Liteura_ he was Little—6-9 months. That headspace may have been skewed from since it was a medicated Drop. I can't say that this is his official Headspace." 

“What about when he Dropped after the phone call?” 

“He seemed younger when he Dropped on his own. Closer to 6 months than 9. I wanted to wait until he stabilized a bit more before I administered the official Headspace testing." 

"And if he begins In-Betweening again? Are you willing to administer the _Liteura_ again?"

“I’d like to avoid it if at all possible. I’ll see how he does,” Castiel countered firmly. "Medically-induced Drops are a controversial topic. I'm of a different school of thought on the matter." 

Jeanine seemed content to let the matter drop for the moment. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and passed them to Castiel. These documents require your signature. They summarize the current situation, your custody over Dean, and the tentative plan for his care. Look them over and sign them as soon as you can, please.” 

Castiel nodded, already flipping through the lengthy stack. He looked up at the silence. Jeanine wasn't done. 

“When we question the brother, Samuel, I’d like you to participate as well.” 

Castiel blinked and struggled to conceal his surprise. He hadn’t anticipated Jeanine inviting his involvement. 

“I’m sure you and your team are more than capable of interviewing. What would you like me to do exactly?” 

“Since you’ve already spoken to him on the phone, you can corroborate the accuracy of his emotional state and testimony. You’re already more familiar with him than we are. Also,” the woman paused and frowned distastefully. “Due to the complicated nature of Dean’s health, you would be the best one to gather intel on Dean’s previous medical history from whatever Samuel can relay. We need to know what led up to his critical state. You’ll need a good baseline when you administer Dean’s Headspace testing later.” 

Castiel nodded. “I do need to know. I appreciate you including me—I'll make good use of the interviews. It will help Dean’s treatment plan going forward if I know what led up to this.” 

Jeanine smiled thinly and rose, checking her phone simultaneously. “I know it will.” She paused at the doorway. “Dr. Novak, I’m well aware of how I appear—please know that I do want what’s best for the Little's in my custody. My anger is not directed at Dean—or you for that matter.” 

Castiel felt himself smile—the first genuine one he’d ever shared with the cold woman before him. “I know it, Mrs. Lamb.” 

* * *

“What’s the verdict, Cassy?” 

Castiel shut the door to the nursery firmly behind him before answering. Even with Jeanine’s brief show of goodwill and transparency he didn’t trust the woman not to turn on them like a cat. 

“Well, I still have my head—not burning at the stake either. Yet.” 

Charlie snorted and gave an eye-roll. “That witch scares me.” 

“Yeah? Not as bad as she scares me. I feel like med student every time she questions me.” 

“Aww, don’t let her push you around, Boss-man!” 

“I didn’t. She’s aware of Dean’s phone call to Sam and why I let it happen. She seems like she trusts my judgement for the most part. Also, she’s fully updated on Dean’s condition and our plan.” 

Castiel surveyed the crib across the room and frowned. 

Dean lay swaddled tightly and propped up in a slightly elevated position. His hands were tucked away to prevent him from tugging the new tubing free from his nose. A tight, miserable frown lined the baby's brow and his cheeks were still slightly damp with tears. Dean had cried and screamed almost the entire time Castiel inserted the NG tube. No amount of soothing or rocking had helped the situation. Castiel had even tried a sweet sucrose-coated pacifier in a desperate bid to distract Dean long enough to insert the uncomfortable tubing. Dean had suckled furiously but still sobbed hard. His teary eyes seemed to flash the betrayal he felt. Castiel was just thankful he'd remained Little the entire time. He couldn't imagine the trauma that would have ensued had Dean aged-up and started fighting. 

Castiel stood silently over the crib and stroked the baby's sweaty forehead. He tucked the drooping pacifier back into Dean's lips. He sniffled wetly but remained asleep, too exhausted from the earlier ordeal. Castiel checked the flow rate of the feeding pump and straightened the tubing absently to remove the slight kinks. 

"He's still all cried-out," Charlie remarked. "He's a trooper."

"I can't wait until he can get this thing out."

"He will, Cassy. I know it."

“He’s been is survival mode for a long time,” Castiel murmured with a wince. “Not sure if he even knows what it’s like to live a normal life.” 

“His brother better have some darn good answers for why he knowingly let an unclassified Little live like this,” Charlie muttered. 

Castiel nodded wearily. “Jeanine will burn him alive if he doesn’t.” 

The pair shared a quiet moment, neither quite ready to abandon the sleeping baby. Finally, Castiel heaved a frustrated sigh.

"I have the 2-4 appointments and then I need to meet at Jeanine's office. All regular long-term patients. I shouldn't need any help. Is Sandi okay out front at reception?"

"Yep, she knows the computer system well enough and I've already reviewed patient charts with her. She should be able to get everyone checked in okay."

Castiel looked at her doubtfully. He'd hated bringing on a new receptionist, but Dean's delicate position meant nearly constant supervision. Charlie couldn't mind the front, assist with patients and check on him. Castiel couldn't re-schedule all of his appointments just to stay with Dean--as much as he wanted to. The temp was a uncomfortable compromise, but a needed one. Castiel was already counting the days till they could get rid of her and go back to their private, usual routine. He didn't need anyone other than Charlie! 

"I'll poke my head out and check on her," Charlie promised. "And if you need help with anything, we can always work around it."

"This will be the first full day with Dean and regular patients. This is going to be a nightmare."

"I know you don't want to leave him, but it's gonna be fine. One patient at a time. I'll be right here with him and I'll update you on Dean throughout the day, I promise."

Castiel frowned and looked upward as if praying for mercy. What he wouldn't give for the day to just end.

* * *

Sam swallowed hard past the rising knot of nausea creeping up the back of his throat. He paused outside the office and breathed deeply, desperately trying to still the thrumming nerves within him. Out of all the things he’d done—all the things their father had led them into—Sam had never felt like such a monster before. A criminal. He might as well have been marching to the electric chair. 

He deserved it. 

“I’m here to see Jeanine Lamb.” 

The words only just barely escaped his tight throat. He sounded like a child sent to the principal’s office. 

The secretary regarded him with a bored expression and motioned to one of the empty chairs in the lobby. “One moment while I see if she’s free. You have an appointment?” 

“Yes, at 5.” 

“Your name?” 

“Sam. Sam Winchester.” 

The secretary didn’t respond. She’d already dismissed him. Sam obediently took a seat and watched her quietly murmur into her headset. 

The Social Services lobby was freezing. Absently, he wondered if it was some devious psychological trick to keep people unnerved and tense while they waited for their doom. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to relax the tight knots arresting his back and shoulders. His eyes drifted about the empty sterility of the lobby and finally settled vacantly on the coal-gray carpet. It seemed like the safest place to look. His guilt wouldn’t allow anything else. 

“Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Lamb will see you now.” 

Sam had to do a double-take. He stood shakily, half-unsure whether the secretary had actually given him permission. 

He could feel Jess’s accusing voice at the back of his head. 

_Man. The. Hell. Up. Sam._

She’d never let him live this down if she saw how skiddish he was acting. He was 6”4’. He was on the Dean’s List of his school. He’ was on-track to becoming a lawyer! 

He was responsible for his sick, half-dead older brother. 

Sam choked back his guilt and squared his shoulders as he marched past the secretary and into the waiting office down the hall. 

The office was just as cold and forbidding as the lobby. It wasn’t so much the furnishing as the steely-eyed woman waiting for him at the desk. 

“Hello, Mr. Winchester. Have a seat, please.” 

Sam silently obeyed, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He wasn’t about to go down without fighting. Dean needed him back in his life. This woman wasn’t going to stop him. 

“Before we being, I asked your brother’s pediatrician to meet us. He will be conducting a portion of this interview. He needs some additional details to add to his plan of care for your brother.” The woman paused and stared at Sam almost unblinking. “Your brother is extremely ill, Mr. Winchester.” 

“Sam.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can call me Sam. I know about Dean. His doctor told me a little.” 

“Were you surprised?” 

Sam hesitated. The inquisition had already begun and he had no clue how to answer. 

“I didn’t know he was a Little.” 

“How could you possibly not know? Your brother couldn’t have hidden it completely. There would have been clues.” 

“My brother is the best liar I’ve ever met. He didn’t want me to know, and I didn't. I suspected, I’ll admit, but not enough to get involved. My brother didn’t want me in his life--he made that very clear.” 

Jeanine opened her mouth and abruptly shut it again. She smiled humorlessly. “Let’s wait just a few more minutes for Dr. Novak before we fully begin what I _know_ will be a very enlightening discussion.” 

The office door banged open and a dark-harried rumpled man rushed in. He shrugged off the wrinkled khaki trench coat and took a seat beside Sam. 

He smiled and all the nerves and guilt welling up inside of Sam suddenly stilled. Something close to peace soothed over his raw nerves. Warmth seemed to glow from the man. He was sanctuary.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Castiel Novak, your brother’s pediatrician. We spoke on the phone.” The voice was deep and rumbling in a solid, reassuring way. 

“I’m Sam.” 

Soft lines about the man’s blue eyes crinkled as he treated Sam to what was clearly intended to be an understanding smile. 

“It’s great to finally meet you. Dean misses you very much.” 

Pain throbbed hotly in Sam’s chest as he pictured what Dean must look like alone and sick. He must have been so scared waking up alone with strangers, his headspace all over the place. 

“Now that we’re all here. Let’s begin.” Jeanine's voice sounded like the crack of whip.

Sam looked over at the woman behind the desk and prayed the floor would swallow him whole. 

He’d failed Dean. In a matter of minutes, both the woman and the doctor would know. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel struggles to find answers to Dean's painful past, Charlie plays baby lifeguard, and Dean finally chooses to stop fighting
> 
> TW for discussion of previous, non-explicit parental abuse/neglect. Nothing graphic but be forewarned that Dean's dark past is now being discussed more thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going in to reply to more comments, but I wanted to give a big fat thank you to everyone who's subscribed, left kudos, and especially left comments. Knowing that you're enjoying this story is a huge part of why it's still being written. Thank you for the love you show... I need it and appreciate it dearly!
> 
> Edited: 10/6

“Deanie, what are you doing, sweetie?” 

Dean jerked his eyes up at the flaming-haired woman standing over him, hands akimbo. He gave a shy smile and tightened his grip on the soft bunny on his lap. 

“Mop’y.” 

“Ah, I see you stole your friend back.” 

The lady smiled at him and Dean’s chest went warm. He liked Red Lady’s smile. 

“I told you I’d give you Mopsy back after we got you cleaned up. ‘Member that, baby?” 

“ _N-No_ cween.” 

“ _Yes_ clean. We don’t want you getting those icky owies all over your sweet cheeks again do we? No more diaper rash for you!” 

“S’eet cheeks. Cheeks. Cheeks. Cheeks....” Dean bounced Mopsy on his lap and sang. He nuzzled the soft blue fur to his face and hummed contentedly at the texture. 

“Okey dokey, buddy boy, Let’s get you clean. Don’t fight me and I won’t fight you. Capisce?” 

“’pish, ‘pish, ‘pish...” 

“My, you’re in a singing mood today. This is what you’re like when you feel good?” 

Dean nuzzled into the Red Lady’s warm neck as she eased him out of his crib and placed him on his special chair. He clung to her and whined at the loss of contact when she set him on the rolling chair. Why didn't she carry him? Cassy always carried him. He didn't want her to let go!

"Hey, now, sweet cheeks, let go. I know. I wish I was big and strong to carry you, too. Little or not, you're still a big boy. Too big for me, I'm afraid. Let's get you over to you bath then we can snuggle after,” she promised. Dean twisted around until he could lay his cheek on one of her small hands as she wheeled him across the room. She stroked his hair gently and his whines of displeasure faded at the touch. 

"Next stop, bath!" Red Lady shifted Dean out of his rolling chair and onto a squishy pad on the floor. 

Dean reluctantly let go of her hand and looked around with wide eyes at the bubbly water filling the tub beside him. 

“Baff?” 

“Yep, bath time.” 

“No baff!” 

The Red Lady suddenly pulled out a tiny yellow duck. Dean’s eyes went wider at the loud squeak it produced.

“Wanna see the duckie?” 

“’Uckie!” Dean eagerly clawed for the duck but she held it just out of reach. He scowled at her. Mean Lady! 

“Okay, sweetie, ducky in just a sec. Let’s lose the diaper and sleeper first. She tossed the duck into the bath and Dean’s eyes remained fixed as it bobbed amid the bubbles. He didn’t even realize she’d stripped him out of his sleeper and diaper until he sat naked on the changing pad. He began shiver almost instantly, tears warming his eyes. 

“Shshsh, baby, I know. One sec and we’ll get you nice and toasty in the bath. Just gotta tape your feeding tube up—no good getting it soaked and ruined.” 

Dean’s lip quivered but he forced himself to sit still as she tapped the icky plastic tube in his nose firmly to his upper cheek. He reached for it irritably to tug it free. 

“Out.” 

“No, honey, that’s gotta stay in for now. That’s how we’re getting you fed.” 

“Owie!” 

Red Lady gave Dean the odd smile Dean hated. It made his chest feel funny whenever she smiled at him like that. The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over. Red Lady’s smiles were always so nice. 

“I know, honey. I don’t like that tube either. We’ll get it out as soon as you can start eating enough. Come on, let’s get you inside to see duckie.” 

Dean curled in on himself as the warm water touched his legs and bottom. The shock of it stole his breath, but the warmth quickly soothed him. He went still, body going droopy with pleasure. The Red Lady giggled and held him upright as he sagged into the water with a happy sigh. 

“Feels good doesn’t it, sweetie? You always fight your baths, but once you’re in, you turn into a happy troll. Here’s that ducky I promised.” 

Dean accepted the peace offering and stared with fascination as the duck squealed sharply in his grip. He grinned and stuck the duck in his mouth, happily gumming it. The Red Lady was laughing at him, but he was too pleased with himself to care. He accepted the small boat and squishy frog she offered and busied himself playing. 

It took him a while to notice the deep, gravely voice in the room. He turned toward the gentle voice and dropped the duck as he let out a happy mewl, arms outstretched. 

“Cass! Cass! Cass!” 

The man grinned at him as he knelt down beside the tub and extended his large hands to meet Dean's wet, bubbly ones. Dean leaned into the touch and let the man stroke his damp hair. 

“Look at you all happy and clean.” 

“Cass, ‘uckie!” 

“Charlie found you a duckie did she. What! is that a froggy in there too?!” 

Dean squealed happily as Castiel picked up the squishy frosh and shot water out of the mouth. He stole the frog back and busied himself squishing it. 

Cass and Red Lady were talking again. Dean couldn’t understand many of the words. He let their quiet voices drift over him absently. He was just happy to be with them. They never left him. Even if one had to, the other always stayed. They wouldn't leave him. 

* * *

“How’d the interview go?” 

Castiel rubbed at his face and tried to ignore the deep ache within his skull. 

“Brutal. Sam’s didn’t stand a chance. This is only the third interview, but it's clear he’s never getting custody of Dean. He’ll be lucky not to get prosecuted if Jeanine has her way.” 

“Was he liable?” Charlie pressed, brow wrinkled. 

“In a manner of speaking. It depends what angle you look at. He was under-aged technically for most of the time. From what I heard, he was suspicious when he was old enough to understand what classification really was—mid to late teen years. He seemed to know his brother didn’t quite fit the mold. Still, can you really expect a teenager to take action? He seemed to leave a lot out about their father, but from what I heard, he’s the true villain. He didn’t seem to want Dean anywhere close to his true classification. It sounded like it was his idea to keep it hidden.” 

“Will Jeanine try to go after Sam?” 

“I’m going to try and dissuade her. Sam could have done something in the past year or so once he was out on his own at college, but I can’t say I really blame him. Dean was careful not to share very much information with Sam about his situation. Mistakes were made, but Sam seems repentant. I think it would do more damage keeping him out of Dean’s life.” 

Castiel glanced down at the loud splash. Dean had dropped the frog over the side of the tub and was trying gallantly to rescue the toy. He was leaning far over the side, a look of determination on his face. Castiel grinned and ignored the growing puddle of water. 

“Here, baby, get your froggy.” 

Dean pounced on the toy Castiel extended and contentedly retreated back into the tub. 

“Cas, how much longer will we have Dean?” Charlie looked pained. 

“Jeanine hasn’t given me a specific timeline. I haven’t asked. I’ve been avoiding it to be honest.” 

Castiel reached down and began rubbing Dean’s back gently with the soft washcloth that had been resting on the side of the tub. Dean leaned into his touch but kept playing. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Little Bee.” 

“If you’re on Dean-Cleaning duty I’ll go get Dean’s formula ready. I should check on Sandi too. She's been fighting through a rat's nest of patient scheduling.”

Castiel moaned and turned his eyes heavenward.

"Cas, you can't expect to see your regular load of patients every day anymore. You know that."

"It's creating a black hole out of our patient wait-list. So many patients are being back-logged now."

"We talked about this," Charlie reminded him chidingly. "You can't run yourself into the ground trying to take on a schedule that's humanly impossible. We stick to the half-day schedules so you don't die."

"When did you become my mother?"

"When you became a father."

Charlie was halfway across the room when she froze and realized what she'd said. She turned, face hot and red. "Cas, I'm sorry. That... that wasn't cool."

Dean didn't seem to notice the tension suddenly chilling the air. He was still happily splashing with this toys.

Castiel was quiet with a tight smile and downcast eyes. 

"It's okay, Charlie. I deserved that."

Charlie opened her mouth to argue but Castiel cut her off. 

"No, you're right. I've been careless. I've blurred the line between doctor and patient and I'm too attached. He's a patient and my responsibility, but he shouldn't be getting so much special treatment. Not when I've hundreds of other patients that are stuck waiting indefinitely. It's just..." Castiel's voice trailed off and he gave a pained sigh. "I know all this. I keep having flashbacks of Ethics and Professional Behaviors back from my school days. It doesn't seem to matter though. Dean doesn't feel like just another patient."

Charlie was quiet, eyes careful and searching as she watched her boss and the Little frolicking beside him in the tub. Her and Castiel were close friends. Equals. They were always brutally honest and open with each other. For the first time, she was at a loss for words or advice. This was far from her realm of expertise. 

"What's Jeanine say about his custody? Any word yet?"

"She's found a small State Nursery Home that's willing to take him. They work with abused and dysfunctional Littles so she thought they'd be suited for Dean's needs."

"When?"

"I... I haven't signed off on the transfer yet. Jeanine's waiting for me to pronounce Dean stable."

That was answer enough, Charlie decided. The pain lining Castiel's face wasn't worth continuing this agonizing conversation. 

***

“Look at those little fingers. Already looking a little pruney,” Castiel remarked with a grin after Charlie left. Dean was pushing the small boat around the water diligently. The duck was back in his mouth. 

“You’re doing so good now, Dean,” Castiel murmured. “Such a good boy. We’ll get you all fixed up and healthy again. I promise.” 

The next few minutes were peaceful. Castiel gentle cleaned every inch of Dean while the baby played. His chest warmed as Dean paused ever so often to lean into his touch or give a satisfied hum of pleasure. 

Castiel felt a twinge of regret as he finally pulled the plug and the water began to drain. He’d come to treasure the quiet moments of care he provided Dean. The idea that they might soon be ending was a hot poker to the chest. He refused to dwell on it.

He wrapped Dean in the hooded towel and bundled him off to the changing table. The emaciated boy was already starting to shiver. Castiel fished around under the table for a diaper and fresh sleeper, one hand still protectively fixed on Dean’s belly.

When he straightened back up, he found Dean’s eyes fixed on him hard. It was the sheer intensity of the glaze that struck Castiel the hardest at first. Long seconds later, realization crashed over. 

The calm innocent glaze of Little-space was gone. Dean’s eyes were wide with fear and confusion. Already, his mouth was gaping, panicked huffs of breath coming rapid-fire as Dean struggled to understand what was happening 

“Dean, you’re safe. I promise, everything’s okay,” Castiel murmured as calmly as he could. Dean’s jaw was working hard, his eyes frantically flitting around the room for answers. 

“Wh-what are you doing to me?” 

“Dean, I’m a doctor. I’ve been taking care of you. Do you remember me?” 

“C-Cass,” Dean stammered. 

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Castiel. Cass. You’re safe with me, sweetie.” 

“Clothes? Where’s my clothes?” 

“I was just getting you dressed. Here, let’s get this on before you free--” 

“Hey, Cas, I’ve got the formula. I taped the feeding tube--” 

Castiel saw the moment go south before Charlie even finished speaking. She froze in the doorway with the feeding supplies. Her eyes went wide when she saw Dean panic and go tumbling off the table in fright. 

Dean stared back at the doctor and tried to ignore the chill creeping over his body. He was naked. Very naked. He curled in on himself closer and dared the doctor to come for him. He glared hotly and wished he had the energy to swear. To fight. To do anything other than hide under a crib like a dumb helpless baby. 

He tucked his head into his bare knees and choked on tight breaths. Everything felt too loud and the walls seemed to be creeping closer by the minute. 

“Dean, you look cold. I’m getting you a blanket.” 

Dean glared. He fully expected a royal battle from the doctor—orders to come out and stop acting so childish! Drugs to keep him dumb and cooperative—to force him to drop and keep him there. 

The doctor seemed strangely cool with his naked, pathetic state though. He had been sitting cross-legged on the floor with a calm face and gentle voice. 

When the doctor returned, Dean watched over the edge of his knees as the man laid the blanket within reach. He didn’t give a single order. Dean met the man’s gaze and reached out to snag the soft blue flannel. He wrapped it about himself and tried to clench his teeth hard enough to stop the chattering. His hair was still damp and dripping down onto his goosebump-ridden neck. 

“Dean, I know this must be... scary to say the least. I’m not going to fight you or make you come out. I’m going to stay with you though to make sure you’re okay.” 

Dean looked away. He wished the man would fight—arguing would be easier. He fiddled with the hem of the blanket as the silence dragged. It seemed safer than meeting the intense blue stare resting on him. Why couldn’t the doctor just leave him be? 

“Do you have any questions?” Castiel murmured. “Anything I can make better for you?” 

“Why are you keeping me here?” Dean croaked. His voice sounded so weak and pathetic. He hated it. Hated the tiny weak shell he’d become. His father wouldn’t even be able to look at him now. This wasn’t what he’d been trained to become. This was what his father had worked so hard to prevent him from becoming. 

“Dean, do you remember being sick? Being in pain when you arrived?” 

The doctor suddenly looked older. Wrinkles lined the corners of his sad eyes. It suddenly occurred to Dean how knowing the eyes were—like they’d already seen everything possible a million times before. They looked almost haunted. 

“Yeah, I remember some... the angry lady?” 

“Jeanine Lamb?” 

Dean felt himself shudder at the snippets of cold eyes and impatient hands. 

“Yeah.” 

“She’s your social worker. She’s not here right now, though. I’m taking care of you right now, not her. I promise.” 

Dean wasn’t sure how that was much better. He didn’t need help. If they would just let him go... 

He’d needed cash. He had no clue what happened to Baby. If he got his phone back he could call Bobby. The man would probably let him stay awhile with relatively few questions. 

“Dean, honey, tell me how you feel right now.” 

“’m’not Little.” 

Castiel smiled patiently and Dean wrapped his arms tighter about his knees. 

“Just checking.” 

Dean glared at the soft chuckle. No, he did not need some doctor laughing at him! 

“Are you in pain?” 

“No...” 

“Still cold?” 

Dean elected not to answer. He wrapped the blanket tighter and stared sullenly at the floor. 

“I have clothes for you... I don’t want you cold or uncomfortable.” 

Dean looked up at the offer and waited for the anvil to drop. What was the doctor trying to trick him into doing in exchange? 

“I’ll go get them for you.” 

Before Dean could muster an answer, the man had risen from where he’d been sitting cross-legged. Dean heard soft banging of cupboard doors just out of sight. When the man returned, he was holding a pair of soft blue scrubs and yellow tube socks. 

“You’re not Little right now so I won’t force you into clothes you’re not comfortable with.” 

Dean blinked at the promise. He’d fully expected a diaper and sleeper. The lack of battle threw him. 

“Do you need help getting dressed?” 

Dean shook his head and accepted the offering. He waited and stared back pointedly until the doctor turned his back to give him privacy. Dean didn’t miss the knowing smile the doctor flashed before turning his back. _He’s seen you naked already_ , an ugly voice reminded Dean. _He’s seen everything. Touched you. Changed you. Fed you._

Dean swallowed back the nausea and tried to ignore the burning in his face. 

He managed to struggle into the clothes, his arms and legs clumsy and weak like a newborn kitten. He felt like a marathoner crashing across the finish line. He shouldn’t be this tired. His memories were fuzzy and splintered but he knew that he’d spent most of his lost time sleeping and being doted on. 

Dean paused after wrestling the shirt over his head. His hand brushed the plastic tube snaking out of his nose. He picked at the tape, chest tight and mind churning with questions. What was this? What did the doctor do to him?! 

“Dean, that needs to stay in.” Dean looked up at the firm tone. The voice was still gentle but unwavering. Castiel was dead serious about the tube. Dean picked at the tape a moment longer out of spite. 

“What is it?” he demanded. 

The doctor heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his curls. He gave Dean a wane smile. “I’m not sure how much you remember from your time Little. You’ve been very sick Dean. Your electrolytes were very imbalanced—you were starving to death and had too much alcohol in your system still. Your system was so imbalanced you suffered a seizure. You only had the one, but we couldn’t get you eating food afterward. Everything we gave you came right back up. The little bit that stayed down wasn’t enough. You were losing weight fast and you were too weak to eat.” The man tapped his own nose. “This tube goes down to your belly. We can put a high-calorie formula though it that’s easier for you to tolerate. You’ve stopped losing weight since we started you on it. You’ve been able to really focus on healing since we’ve gotten you enough calories.” 

Dean gulped back a rising lump. He tried to picture himself seizing. The thought was too jarring. The knowledge that he’d been so sick was alien to him. He’d never been sick—not really. Colds and food poisoning from crappy roadside diners didn’t count. 

“Dean, what do you remember?” Castiel pressed. “I want to help fill in any gaps.” 

Dean swallowed hard. His nails bit sharp crescents into the palms of his hands as he fished for a memory fragment big enough to share. He had vague whispers of voices and fuzzy faces, but little else. 

A common denominator beamed out of the darkness, though. Gentle hands. Gentle voice. Head rubs and hand holding. Soft, warm washcloths on his back. Cuddling and humming songs. Being wrapped in blankets and rocked. The vibration on his cheek from the deep voice that hummed to him as he was held close. 

“You,” he blurted. “I remember you... Cas?” Dean fumbled. Was that the right name? It sounded right. He remembered using that name. 

“That’s right, Dean. I’m Castiel. You’ve been calling me Cas—easier to pronounce I think.”

The doctor’s smile was warm and Dean suddenly hated himself for all the distrust and animosity he’d blasted the man with just minutes earlier. The doctor was a mother-hen, but he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t trying to make things worse. Dean was already good enough at creating his own hell. 

Dean’s stomach churned. 

He was actually sick. 

The realization sapped him and left him numb. The weakness and awkwardness of his limbs. His fuzzy, throbbing head. The doctor’s infinite patience. All those days of gentle care and doting. He hated what it all added up to. 

“I’m sick,” he choked. “I’m really sick.” He wasn’t sure who the words were meant for—himself or Castiel. 

“Dean,” Cas murmured carefully. “It’s a lot to take in. I don’t expect you to be okay with this. I’m here though. I will listen. I promise.” 

“Am I going to get better?” Dean ignored the tremor in his voice. He wasn’t sure what he dreaded most—the honest truth if the news was bad or a fake, saccharine lie that he’d get better. 

“It’s going to take time, but you already are getting better,” Castiel answered with a smile. “You had a skin infection that’s healed. You’re slowly gaining weight--” 

“No,” Dean interrupted, voice cracking. “This.” He pointed to his head helplessly and mentally begged the doctor to understand so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself further. 

“Your Head Spacing,” Castiel finished for him with a knowing sigh. The doctor’s face had gone worrying sober again. 

“Did you know you were Little, Dean? There was never any record of you being tested when you were a teenager.” 

Dean felt himself nod, but he was growing too numb to sense much else. 

“You weren’t allowed to be Little,” Castiel pressed. 

It wasn’t a question so Dean didn’t respond. The doctor seemed to already know anyway. 

“You spent all those years having to fight those urges...” 

Dean’s eyes swiveled up at the unmistakable hitch in the man’s voice. His eyes widened at the sorrow encasing the man’s face. “Dean, I’m so sorry... you should have never had to experience that pain. It was abuse.” 

“m’fine,” Dean struggled. He didn’t feel fine though. He was tired. Tired of the fighting and confusion. Tired of the haunting voices and memories. 

“Dean, have you ever been able to be Little? To actually be cared for?” 

“No.” 

And there it was, Dean thought wryly. The honest and ugly truth. He couldn’t imagine what a pathetic mess he must seem. A Little so needy and disgusting no one wanted to care for him. He’d been too much of a mess for his father. His dad hadn’t had the time and energy to care for such a helpless baby when he should have been an adult. 

When he finally dared to look up at the doctor again, the pain on the man’s face took Dean by surprise. Castiel was wiping moisture from his eyes. He gave Dean a watery smile.

“Sorry, it just hurts me to imagine all you must have gone through, Dean. You deserve so much better. 

_You should be thankful for what you’ve got!_

_Ungrateful._ _I’m trying to help you, boy! Fix you! You want Sammy to see you_ _whinin_ _’ and peein’ yourself?!_

_The only thing stopping me from turning you in--_

“Dean, sweetie?” 

Dean looked up, head pounding. He rubbed at his damp eyes and refused to acknowledge the tears he didn’t even remember crying. 

“Was that another flashback? You’ve had them before.” 

“Bad memories,” Dean muttered. 

“Your father never had you tested did he?” Castiel’s voice was careful but searching. 

“Didn’t need to... saw what I was early. Started wetting the bed again. Crying over stupid things.” 

“Did he tell you what a Little was?” 

Dean gave a wooden nod. “Took me to a state nursery home—made me watch the babies all day. Said I would end up just like them. No one would want me.” 

“Dean.... did he _hurt_ you in anyway?” Castiel’s voice was quiet, but rock solid, an anchor. 

Dean couldn’t look up. He couldn’t bear to see the pain and concern in the man’s eyes. How he must pity him. 

“No, not... not like _that_ ,” he whispered. 

“What did he do when you dropped?” 

“Didn’t drop—not when I took the pills he gave me. If I started acting too Little, sometimes he’d just give me a shot. I’d feel normal again.” 

“Do you know the name of what you took?” 

Dean went silent. “Don’t want to talk about this,” he croaked. He felt weak and wrung out like a mildewy washcloth. How much longer was Castiel going to poke and pry. 

“Do you feel up to walking? I’d like to help you to bed. You’re still weak, Dean. I know this is exhausting for you.” 

“Not a baby,” Dean managed to whisper. 

“I know. I won’t force you into a crib right now. I promise.” 

Dean startled as the doctor edged closer to him. “Can I touch, Dean? Just to help you up. I don’t want you falling.” Dean nodded, not trusting his voice enough to answer. 

Together, they managed to ease Dean upright. They waited long enough for him to settle his shaky balance and gather his wits enough to walk. Dean let Castiel lead him over to a simple cot against the wall. Dean forced his gaze away from the crib that had clearly been his up until now. Stuffed animals and blankets filled it. It looked so safe. Raw longing tugged uncomfortably at his chest.

Castiel settled him on the cot and instantly tucked a freshly warmed blanket across his legs. Another one was draped over his shivering form. 

“Comfortable?” Castiel sat down beside him, eyes alert and searching. 

Dean nodded. Questions pricked at him. 

“What’s next?” he forced himself to ask. 

“Right now, the only focus is getting you well again and regaining your strength.” Dean frowned. That seemed too easy. He gave Castiel a look. 

“There is question regarding your guardianship,” the doctor admitted. “Because you were found alone and unclassified, legally, you’ll need to be tested for an age range and have your status changed. It can wait though. You're headspace has been very erratic and you're still struggling with sudden drops. You’ll need an official guardian once you're classed.” 

Dean’s head spun. He couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. Someone specifically tasked with taking care of him? All the time? He’d have no privacy anymore. No independence. No future beyond bottles and toys. 

“Dean, we don’t need to go into all the details now.” Castiel seemed to sense the panic clawing across Dean’s mind. “You don’t need to think about anything other than resting—getting stronger.” 

“Who’s going to be my guardian?” Dean forced. “How do they even decide that?” 

Castiel went quiet. 

“Your brother Sam is here. He’s trying to help us get this figured out. You don’t have any other family?” 

“No,” Dean returned quickly. Castiel looked at him quietly for a long moment. He smiled gently, his eyes knowing. 

“If guardianship isn’t able to go to a family member, you can be adopted.” 

Nausea rose hot and thick in Dean’s chest at the thought of a stranger having control over his entire existence. Feeding him. Cleaning him. Controlling him. 

He clenched his fists and felt himself begin to rock slightly. The world began to tilt on its axis, leaving Dean lurching and dizzy. 

“Dean, you’re safe. I know this is scary, but you're safe right now.” Castiel’s presence was warm and solid. How could he radiate such calm control? The freaking world was ending! 

“Hate this,” Dean choked. “Hate this so much! Shouldn’t be like this.” He beat a fist against his thigh and savored the hot pain. 

“You’re you, Dean. That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

“Cas...” Dean ignored the hot tears flooding his eyes. He was tired of fighting. He couldn’t do it anymore. Screw whatever his dad would think of him. He’d failed. He wasn’t what his dad had raised him to be. He wasn’t a Winchester. Whatever was going to happen to him would happen no matter what he did. He was Little. He couldn’t hide behind his dad’s pills anymore. Soon the whole world would know what he was. A worthless, useless baby.

“I’m here, Dean.” Castiel carefully took his hands and squeezed them in his own gentle grasp. 

“Hate this.” 

Dean let the doctor draw him close and tuck his face into the warm crook of his neck. 

Dean sobbed hot and choking cries. It occurred to him that he had no business crying this hard when he wasn’t even Little. Babies cried like this, not grown men. 

Castiel didn’t seem to care. 

Dean was too tired to either. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself Little, Big, and somewhere in between. Castiel and Charlie are there to catch him when he falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent more time on this chapter than usual so hopefully it shows. I really enjoyed writing Little Dean and tried to get the nuances of his Little-space speech and thought patterns. Little Dean is different than Big Dean.
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of bathroom issues (incontinence, wearing protection, etc.) Some panic and negative self-image over loss of autonomy and independence. Some discussion of food issues that may sound similar to an eating disorder(s). Dean does not have an eating disorder, but his sensory issues may make it appear that way.
> 
> Kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks give me happy little dopamine rushes (just saying <3) Thank you so much to those of you who've already given me this :3
> 
> Edited: 10/6

Dean snuffled contentedly and curled around his pillow. He grabbed for Mopsy and brought her to his face for a morning snuzzle. He didn’t want to wake up. He was warm and cozy and his crib felt safe. Dean fished around for his missing paci and gave a happy grunt when he finally found it hiding in his blankies. He popped it in his mouth clumsily and tried to burrow deeper. He clutched at the new mousie-blankie Cas had given him. It had a soft mouse with a blankie attatched. It was the softest blankie he’d ever had and he liked rubbing it on his face. The mouse’s name was Squeak, Dean had decided. He liked Squeak almost as much as Mopsy. Mopsy was his first friend from Cas, though, and nothing could replace her. She was the bestest! 

Dean cracked his eyes open at the soft footsteps approaching. Cas was here! He walked into Dean’s nursery but kept the lights off. Dean was glad for that; mornings were too bright. He peeked at the man over the edge of his blankies and stayed quiet, curious. Cas was busy at the changing table, sorting through boxes. He didn’t know Dean was awake. Dean almost laughed. He liked feeling sneaky. 

Cas moved to the cupboard and pulled down several bottles. Dean wrinkled his nose. Cas was getting his med’cine. Dean didn’t like med’cine. It tasted icky and sticky and he could never swallow it right. 

He must have made some sort of sound because Cas looked right over at him and smiled. He walked over and Dean dove under the blankies shyly. He rubbed Squeak’s blanky across his face and sucked his paci hard as he waited for Cas to come find him. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find him under all the blankies? 

“Where’s my Dean? I thought I saw him in here, but he’s gone now!”

Cas’s deep, rumbly voice was really close. He must be right by the crib. Dean tried to stop a giggle from escaping. Cas was silly.

“I hope I find Deanie soon. Mopsy, have you seen him?”

Oh, no! Dean realized Mopsy hadn’t made it under the blankies with him! She was still sitting out and Cas had spotted her. Surely Mopsy wouldn’t snitch on him. 

“What’s that? You said he’s hiding from me? I had morning snuggles and a baba all ready for Dean, though. Maybe he doesn’t want snuggles?” 

No, no! Dean wanted snuggles! He wanted his baba too! Hiding suddenly didn’t seem like such fun any more. He was ready for Cas to find him. Dean whipped the blankies down and clumsily popped up from his nest. 

“I here! I here, Cas!” he called out frantically. He held his arms up for hugs. He hoped it wasn’t too late. Cas was still there, though. He smiled down at Dean so widely the corners of his eyes wrinkled up. 

“There’s my Dean!” he cheered. He reached down and scooped Dean up to his chest. Dean cuddled his face into the warm, soft neck. Cas gave his bottom a pat and tickled Dean’s side. He gave a giggly shriek and jerked away, laughing. 

“You ready for cuddles and baba?” Cas asked. Dean nodded. His paci had fallen out so he jammed three fingers into his mouth instead. He suckled happily as Cas carried him over to their rocking chair. Dean snuggled in Cas’s lap and let his eyes drift half close. He was always really sleepy in the morning. It took him a long time to wake up. Cas said it was okay to be a sleepy boy, though. He needed extra rest to get strong and healthy again. 

Cas tucked Squeak’s blanky over him and rubbed his hair. With his other hand he reached over and got Dean’s baba. Dean let him tuck the nipple into his mouth and he began suckling contentedly. It was warm and sweet and never hurted his belly like other stuff did—not like the yucky, lumpy food Cas tried to give him sometimes. He only wanted his baba. 

Cas hummed and rocked them slowly as Dean drank. After a bit, the nursery wasn’t so dark. The windows were becoming bright and Dean could hear noises from outside the nursery. He watched the door hard. Maybe Char'y was here! He liked Red Lady. Char'y always cuddled him and played with him when Cas wasn’t there. 

“Honey, you ready to start our day? Baba’s all gone."

Dean abruptly stopped sucking. He hadn’t even realized he’d finished. He spit out the nipple and pouted. He wanted more baba! Cas rearranged him and lifted his head up so it was against lying his shoulder. He began patting Dean’s back as they kept rocking.

“I know, little bee. It was a good baba wasn’t it? We’ll get your some more food as soon as we get you changed and ready. Your bum’s looking a little squishy.” 

Dean felt a burp rise in his chest. Cas kept patting him for a bit longer. Finally, Cas picked him up and made his way over to the table. He set Dean down and began un-snapping Dean’s jammies. Dean kicked his legs out and reached for his foot. He was wearing his kitty jammies today and his feets had kitty ears on them. 

“I help!” he offered, still trying to reach for his foot. 

“What a good helper I have this morning!” Cas praised. “You got some good sleep last night and you’re feeling good today. All happy and ready to go?” 

“Go, go, go, go!” 

“Yep, we’re going to have a good day today.” 

Cas finished getting his jammies off and tickled his belly. Dean was too busy giggling and squirming to realize his diaper was off. The cold breeze made him shiver and freeze. He whined at the cold sensation of the wipes, but Cas was always fast and really, really gentle. He never hurted him. In no time, Cas had gotten a dry diaper back on and patting his bottom proudly.

“All clean and fresh as a flower!” 

“Cween!” Dean cheered with him as Cas helped him back into his jammies. He kicked his kitty feet out happily. 

“Okay, let’s go do some tummy time for just a bit.” 

“Baba?” Dean pleaded. 

“In just a bit, baby. Tummy time first.”

Cas helped him down and laid him on the soft, squishy pad in the center of the room. The pad had a small gate around the sides that Dean kinda liked. It made sure he wouldn’t fall if he rolled too hard. He couldn’t roll around that well, but it still made him feel safe. Cas placed several toys around Dean and made sure Squeak and Mopsy were close. Dean investigated his hoard of toys. He giggled at the loud jingly rattle Cas had placed in his hand. He shook it harder. The bells making his chest tickly and warm. 

Cas was back with some little bottles. None of them were baba. Dean took one look at the bottles and wrinkled his nose. Yucky! Cas was gonna give him his med’cine. 

“Okay, baby, I’m gonna try something new today. It’ll be easier for you.” 

Dean wasn’t so sure. 

“Here we go, honey. Just need to prop you up a little bit.”

Ca slid a funny-shaped pillow under him that kept his head up almost like he was sitting. Cas very gently did something with the icky tube that was stuck in Dean’s nose. Dean whined a little and tried to turn his head away, but Cas kept a big hand on his cheek.

“I know, I know. I’ll be very gentle, sweetie. This won’t hurt.”

Cas took a tube and stuck it on the end of the nose tube. He poured some yucky medicine inside and Dean watched it disappear down the tube. He kept waiting for the icky taste, but it never came. Cas poured water down the tube next and then it was suddenly all over. 

“Good job, sweetie!” Cas cheered. “All done.” 

Dean stared. Was Cas lying? No, he couldn’t be. He was already up putting the bad bottles away on the shelf. He really was all done. 

Cas turned back to put him on the squishy pad. He readjusted all the toys just so to make sure Dean could reach everything. 

“Okay, sweet bee, I’m going to go say hi to Charlie then I’ll be back okay? Play with your toys.” 

Dean watched Cas leave and a bad, icky feeling started to grow in his chest. It was like the yucky med'cine. He didn’t want Cas to go! He stretched out his arms to reach for Cas, but he was already too far away. Dean whined and kept reaching. 

“Shsh, little bee, I’ll be right back. I’ll leave the door open. I promise I’m coming back.” Dean shook his head, hot tears trying to fill his eyes. Cas left, but the door stayed open. If Dean stretched his neck real far, he could kinda see Cas in the next room. He heard Char'y’s voice and felt a little better. 

Dean huffed miserably and tried to think about all the toys Cas had left with him. He reached for Squeak and rubbed the blanky on his face bunches until the bad-sad-mad feeling in his chest started to go away. Squeak always made him feel better. He kept rubbing, sucking hard on the new paci Cas had given him. 

But then his brain started going all funny—like a light switching on and off really fast. The room felt spinning and his belly hurted. 

He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes. Where was he? What was he doing? The spinning sensation was slowly fading. He looked down at his hands. The blanket in his hands looked familiar. There was a stuffed toy mouse attached to it. He flung the rattle in his other hand away and listened to the chorus of bells ring out. Dean swallowed hard. It felt like a mask had been abruptly pulled down off his eyes. Like he was aware of himself for the first time. He remembered waking up and little pieces and splinters of Cas caring for him. The rocking chair. The bottle. Dean’s face went hot and burning. The diaper change. He gritted his teeth. He’d woken up Little. 

But now he was Big? At least he felt Bigger. He wasn’t in the mood to play with rattles or mouse-blankets anymore at least. 

Experimentally, he tried to sit up. He nearly fell back hard, but after a little wiggling, he managed to get himself upright. He surveyed the gated-off mattress pad with a sick feeling. He’d been baby-gated. 

He pushed away the toys around him and sat impatiently as he waited for Cas. He assumed the man would be back for him soon. Dean absently began fiddling with the mouse-blanket as he waited, one hand stroking the blue side of the blanket. It was minky-soft and soothing. He didn’t even realize he’d pulled it closer to his lap until he looked down to find the mouse smiling up at him. He caught himself smiling back down instinctively. 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t all the way Big yet? 

***   


“Alright, let’s try mac n’ cheese.” 

Dean stared dully down at the plastic bowel, nose wrinkling in distaste. 

“Come on, Dean, just a few bites. We’ve got to get you used to eating again.” 

Dean gave a hard swallow and picked up the plastic spoon. He scooped up exactly three noodles and brought it to his mouth. They sat heavily on his tongue, the texture doing odd things to his gut. It felt slimy. Unnatural. 

“Oh, Dean. I’m sorry, sweetie.” 

He could barely hear Cas’s voice over his own wretched heaves. The man was rubbing his back gently as he held an emesis basis beneath his face. He didn’t seem phased by Dean’s vomiting. Just sad. 

“Here, rinse your mouth,” Cas urged. Dean accepted the cup of water and gave a few swishes before spitting it out. 

“Why?” he gasped, throat raw and burning. This was the seventh time he’d vomited in the past few days. With the exception of the formula going through his feeding tube and the bottles he’d taken while Little, he hadn’t been able to manage any “Big food.” It was as if his brain had stopped registering solid food as safe. Cas was relentless, however. He kept urging Dean to try eating. Nothing crazy or exotic—just small portions of soft, bland foods. Mash potatoes. Soups. Oatmeal. Macaroni and cheese had been the final straw. Dean was done. 

“I can’t!” He burst. He cupped his face in his hands. He wanted to hide from Cas. The saddened, weary look on the doctor’s face was doing uncomfortable things to Dean’s chest. He couldn’t stand the stress and disappointment he was no doubt causing. Surely the doctor had better things to do than sit around and try to help him eat. 

“You can, Dean. It’s just going to take some time,” Castiel murmured, reaching for his hand. Dean let him squeeze, but couldn’t manage to return it. He felt empty and drained. “Your head space has been so uncertain your mind is having trouble regulating bodily functions. I suspect your mind thinks you’re still in Little space even when you’re not. It would explain your unconscious aversion to 'Big foods.'” 

“So I’m stuck drinking baby bottles,” Dean huffed. He tried to ignore the hot moisture trying to seep from his eyes. He had faint flashes of the bottle he’d taken that very morning. He’d enjoyed it then, but the thought of drinking one now was horrifying. Even when Big, it was still uncomfortably easy to start crying over anything. Everything seemed to set him off. Changes in schedule. Getting his daily medicines. Charlie or Cas leaving the room. Everything. 

”We can re-train your mind to accept Big foods as we work on stabilizing your head spaces,” Castiel assured him. “For right now, solids may prove a challenge, but we’re going to work on slowly transitioning you.” He paused and set a small cardboard bottle on the table with a straw. “We’ll go back to protein shakes for the rest of today. We’ll try solids again tomorrow.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and silently accepted the drink. He was quickly becoming burnt out on the shakes—all three flavors. 

“Let your stomach rest for a bit,” Cas reminded him. “Try sipping it a little at a time. Charlie will be switching with me until early evening. I have some other patients to see, but I’ll still be around throughout the day. Charlie will be here with you,” he promised. 

Dean’s gut did an uncomfortable flip-flop at the thought of Cas leaving. He should be used to it by now. The past few days he’d grown accustomed to the office’s schedule. Cas would be there for him in the morning to help wake up and assess his head space. With the exception of that morning, he’d woken up Big the past few days—an act he was still immensely proud of. Mid to late morning, Charlie would arrive and switch off with Cas. She helped him dress and clean up again if necessary. Dean’s ears burned at the memories of all the help he needed—Big or Little. Big or not, his bladder didn't seem to get the message. He was just thankful he hadn’t woken up to a real mess. Yet. 

Charlie never seemed surprised at the state he awoke in. She cheerfully helped however needed. She was perpetually un-phased and easy-going. 

As if on cue, Charlie chose that moment to make her grand entrance. 

“Good morning! My two favorite representatives of the male species.” 

Castiel quirked a wry grin at the extravagant greeting and checked his watch. 

“Right on time.” 

“Unlike you boss-man. You’ve got about 5 minutes before you’re officially late for your first appointment.” 

Dean wanted to laugh at the sudden fear blossoming across Castiel’s face as he jumped up and rushed for the door. He would have laughed if the sharp pain in his chest hadn’t stopped him. Cas was leaving him. 

_No_ , he told himself. _It’s just for a few hours. He’s not really leaving. He’s just in another room. You can do this! Just stop crying over everything!_

“Dean? Are you okay?” 

Dean jerked his eyes upward and found both Castiel and Charlie watching him carefully. 

“I-I’m fine,” he forced. “Go see the other babies.” 

Castiel looked like he wanted to argue, but he seemed to stop himself. 

“I’ll be back to check on you at lunch.” 

Dean gave a jerky nod. 

“Well now, ready to get your day officially started?” Charlie gave his hand a warm squeeze. 

_Don’t cry! Just don’t cry!_

“Yeah, let’s do this.” 

Charlie gave a fortifying smile and sharp nod. She helped him stand and watched him critically to ensure he was stable enough on his feet to walk. He felt awkward and wobbly even when Big. Just like his aversion to solid foods, his balance and coordination issues seemed tied to his scattered head spaces. Charlie had already threatened him once with a wheelchair when she watched him nearly face-plant on the nursery floor. 

Dean gave a mental cheer at his small victory when he managed to safely reach the bathroom door without incident. 

“Would you like a bath?” Charlie asked as Dean took a seat on the shower chair that sat outside the tub. “Cas told me you needed a change this morning when you woke up.” 

Dean blushed to his ears, but forced himself to ignore it. Charlie had already taken care of him. Seen him. It didn’t matter anymore. 

“Later. I-I don’t need a full bath now.” 

The unspoken words hung between them. Dean hadn’t managed to completely soil himself in his sleep. Waking up to pee was one thing. His Big mentality had actually proven strong enough to keep him in control of himself enough to avoid a huge mess. So far.

“I’ll bring you some clothes while you freshen up then.” Charlie filled a small tub of warm water and added a dollop of soap to a washcloth. Dean accepted it and scrubbed at his gummy eyes. 

She gave the door a soft knock when she returned and Dean quickly threw a towel over his lower body. He hoped desperately she wouldn’t notice the moist, stained diaper he’d flung in the corner. Cas had changed him that morning and he’d already managed to wet himself again. It wasn’t much, but it was still there. Undeniable proof at the weak control he had over himself. 

Charlie gave him a knowing look. Nothing got past her. Wordlessly, she squatted to toss the diaper in the trash. 

“Dean, I was talking with Cas. I know you hate it, but it would make things easier on you if you wore.... _protection_ even when you were Big. Just until you get some more control.” 

“I’m not wearing a stupid diaper!” 

“Not a diaper. Not when you’re Big. Something less... bulky. No one would have to know. They couldn’t tell.” 

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You stupid baby!_

Dean rubbed the hot moisture from his eyes and hoped Charlie thought his eyes were still damp from the washcloth. 

“Dean, it would be better than having to worry about accidents during the day. You’d be more comfortable. Less clothes changes.” 

In that moment, Dean felt himself grasping for his last thread of control. He’d already lost so much. His health. His independence. His sense of autonomy and dignity. If he started wearing diapers all the time or whatever else Charlie was suggesting what did he have left? He might as well be Little all the time. 

“Wearing protection doesn’t make you Little.” 

Dean’s head jerked up at Charlie’s calm, stabilizing voice. It was as if she was peering inside his head and watching his thoughts unfold. 

“I know plenty of people who wear protection—not all of them are Little. When I was working at an assisted living center we had a lot of patients who needed a little extra help. An army vet with a spine injury—left him paralyzed from the waist down. A woman in her thirties with malignant brain cancer—she would get too confused to make it to the bathroom in time.” Charlie shot Dean a significant look. “Needing help doesn’t make you weak, Dean.” 

He was too busy staring at the floor to meet her eyes. He knew she was right, but the sour discomfort in his stomach kept him from answering. 

“No one will notice if... if I wear something?” 

“No one, I promise.” 

Dean gave a jerky nod and relinquished what he felt was his last thread of control. If he was giving up, at least he was with good people. They wouldn’t abuse the control, he told himself. Not Charlie and Cas. They would never make fun of him. 

Charlie returned several minutes later with a thick plastic package. She pulled out what looked like a thin, scaled-down version of a diaper. Not bulky or obvious. “Some people call them pull-ups. Some call them briefs. They’re not diapers, but they do the job in case there’s an accident. You can pull them on and off by yourself just like underwear. I’ll keep the package in here so you can change any time you need to. You don’t even have to tell me unless you want help.” 

Dean accepted the new article of clothing with a stoic nod. This wouldn’t be forever he promised himself. He’d get his control back. He’d learn to live as Big again. He wouldn’t wear these stupid pull-ups a day longer than necessary. Until then, he’d suck it up. Make it work. At least he wouldn’t need Charlie’s help changing. He’d do fine on his own. 

When Dean finally made it back into the nursery after changing, Charlie was already setting up a fresh soft pad and pillows on the floor. It was just like this morning minus the baby gate and toys. Dean winced and bit his tongue. Charlie and Cas still considered him a high-fall risk due to how quickly he could drop into Little space without warning. If he dropped and no one was with him, he could go tumbling and—in Charlie’s own words--”split his head like a melon.” Cas and Charlie had compromised and agreed to not watch him like a hawk all day if Dean agreed to abide by their anti-fall rules: Wear the stupid no-skid socks, ask for help, and stay low to the ground when he was by himself. 

Dean dutifully took his place on the mattress pad and lounged back against the stack of pillows. Charlie offered him the remote to a small TV set she’d wheeled in. 

“Your choice. I brought some comics from home that I thought you might like. Oh, here’s this too.” 

Dean accepted the tablet quizzically. 

“It’s loaded with books and shows. If you don’t feel like TV I thought you might like reading instead.” 

“Whatcha got?” 

“Basically everything. Tolkien, Patterson, Bradbury, and everything in between.” 

Dean regarded the tablet with new interest. He’d never read much in the past, but then there had never any time. He hadn’t had the luxury of hauling books around and he definitely hadn’t the money to buy the digital copies like Charlie had. This was really the first time he’d had access to his own personal library. 

“I’ll be in and out, but if you need anything, you know the drill right?” 

Dean tugged at the lanyard on his neck and made a clicking motion with his thumb. 

“I mean it, Dean, push the button if you need anything at all. That’s what I’m here for, ‘kay?” 

Dean smiled wanly at her care and nodded. 

Charlie excused herself and Dean luxuriated in the hundreds of books at his fingertips. 

***

Sandi let out an exhausted sigh and pushed back from her desk. 

“I don’t know how you keep so many appointments straight. Your patient list is ridiculous!” 

Charlie quirked a smile, but the ringing phone gave her pause. She held up a finger and answered her headset. 

The frantic voice on the other end of the line made her wish she’d answered with a normal phone. At least she could have held it further away from her ear. She’d go deaf at this rate. 

“Let me look at our schedule for today real quick—Yes, I’m so sorry. I can imagine how upsetting this is. Dr. Novak will want to see you as quickly as he can—” 

The voice on the other end of the line was nearing hysteria. 

Charlie ignored Sandi’s look of unashamed wonder as she watched her quickly navigate through their computer’s scheduling program, fingers flying and mind racing. There was no real time today for a last-minute appointment. Castiel was already overwhelmed. He was already down to a 15 minute lunch break—that was after she’d talked him into taking a lunch at all. 

Charlie scanned for any existing appointments that could be delegated. She had a limited scope of practice but she wasn’t helpless. She could do small tasks and free him up for the more complex appointments. Maybe together they could make time for the desperate caregiver pleading with her on the phone. Normally, Charlie would politely but firmly add a last minute appointment to their wait list. If it was an emergency, she’d refer them to the ER. This phone call was different. The symptoms the caregiver was rattling out were different. Worrisome and unique in a way that made Charlie’s gut ache with dread. They hadn’t had these symptoms before except for once. With Dean. The caregiver was openly crying. There was no way Charlie could brush this off. 

Charlie highlighted 3 appointments on her screen—simple vaccinations and well-Little checkups. Together they added up to just over an hour. If she could assist with these, Castiel would be free for a last-minute appointment. It would still be rushed but he could manage. 

“Okay, Mrs. Summers, we can get Andy in at 2 o’clock. Bring a list of all medications he’s been taking, please. Dr. Novak will need to take a look to see if any of them are causing the reaction you’re describing.” 

Charlie said her goodbyes and disconnected the line. She slid back in her chair and began planning how she was going to tell Castiel about his change of plans. Her smartwatch began pinging at her urgently. She quickly stood and rushed to the nursery, ignoring Sandi’s questioning shout behind her. 

Dean had pressed the button. 

She burst into the room, eyes scanning for danger or threat. Across the room on the mattress, Dean had slumped to his side, tablet lying loosely in his grasp. One hand was still clutching his button on the lanyard around his neck. She knelt beside him and began assessing.

“Dean, are you still Big, honey?” 

This was concerning. He’d already woken up Little and spent much of the morning resting comfortably in that head space. He’d only come up Big for a few hours. He needed more time Big before he went tumbling down into Little-space again. This rapid-cycling was insane! Cas was going to be upset to hear the news.

He gave a pained whine from the back of his throat from where he sat slumped. His eyes looked glazed and scared. 

“Okay, Dean, let’s try ‘head-shakes’ and ‘nods.’ Shake for ‘no’ and nod for ‘yes.’” Charlie waited to see any sign of comprehension in Dean’s panicky eyes. He had a slow, deliberate nod of agreement. 

“Do you feel Big right now?” 

Shake. 

“Do you feel like you’re dropping?” 

Another pained whine. 

“Dean, it’s okay. It’s safe for you to drop right now if you need it. I know you don’t like it, honey. I’m sorry.” 

Dean tried to struggle upright again, but only managed to slump further onto the mattress. Charlie removed the tablet and set it aside as she eased Dean into a more comfortable position. He was starting to cry full-force as she adjusted his arms and legs into a neutral position and placed his head on her lap. She stroked his hair gently and began humming quietly. He’d responded to it well in the past. She hoped he would drift off to sleep while he finished dropping—anything to make the transition less traumatic for him. 

She stayed with Dean as he slipped further and further. That morning, he’d awoke in the head space of a young toddler, but now, she wouldn’t be surprised if he slipped further into infant space. Her eyes drifted over to the tablet questioningly. Had something prompted Dean’s drop? His drops were often spontaneous and without rhyme or reason, but Castiel had long established that strong emotions were the most obvious trigger for Dean. Had something upset him? 

The tablet screen was angled away, but Charlie still managed to catch site of the breaking news blurb at the bottom of the screen. Her tablet was only set-up for books and downloaded shows, but her news app still flashed updates occasionally. She’d forgotten to turn it off. 

A familiar name flashed back at her. 

_Winchester._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's past comes haunting and threatens to steal him away. Castiel learns he must say good bye sooner than he expected, and Charlie continues to keep the office afloat amid the chaos. Sam finally gets to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got super packed-full of exposition and plot. A lot of legal issues surround Dean's situation. Sorry there's maybe not as much fluff as some of the other chapters. Thank you all as always for the love you share through your kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions. Comments, in particular, warm my soul. I'm currently trapped in the hell-hole of job hunting as a new college grad (in the middle of a fudgin' pandemic) so I definitely appreciate all the love I can get :')

Castiel glanced down at his vibrating phone. He set aside his patient files and checked the text message. Moments later, he was rushing for the door. Charlie nearly collided with him outside his office door. 

“Boss man, you got my text?” 

“Is he alright?” Castiel kept moving down the hallway, Charlie jogging after him. 

“He’s Little.... very Little,” she murmured in a rush. “He’s stable though. No physical danger or injuries. He’s pretty spooked though. He saw something on my tablet by accident--a news article pop-up. It triggered him.” 

Castiel glared at nothing in particular. He wanted to be angry at Charlie. Angry that she’d been careless with her tablet notifications. Angry that he hadn’t kept Dean safe from the ugliness of the outside world. Angry that Dean was spiraling again just when it seemed he was starting to level-off. 

“Cas, look at me.” 

He ran a hand over his face. When had he gotten so stubbly and scruffy? Charlie took him by the shoulders and turned him to face her. 

“You need to calm down. He’s okay. He’s Dropped but he’s okay. You can’t go in there like this.” 

“I’m fine,” he huffed. 

“No, you’re not. You’re freaking out, and Dean’s going to feel that stress. I didn’t come get you for you to freak him out even more.” 

Cas forced himself to take a deep breath and then one more for good measure. He gave a stilted nod and reached for the door handle of the nursery. 

“I’m going to go cover the next appointments—the influenza and tetanus vaccines. Check Dean over and do a head space assessment. I’ll meet you when I’m finished, ‘kay?” 

“Charlie?” 

She turned to face him, eyes steely and all business. 

“Thank you... you were right about my emotional state.” 

Charlie quirked a quick grin. “Oh, I’m _always_ right, Cassy. It’s okay. Go take care of your munchkin.” She took off down the hall leaving Castiel alone in front of the nursery. He gently opened the door and peeked inside. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find. He had horrible visions of finding Dean sobbing and terrified inside the storage closet again like those first days they’d had him. 

Instead, the nursery was errily quiet. He stepped inside and died quietly inside at the sight that met him. Dean lay curled on the mattress, clutching his mouse-blanket like a lifeline. Charlie had tucked another blanket over him. Castiel knelt down next to him, his movement slow and careful. Dean’s face was red and blotchy with tears. He’d clearly been sobbing hard at one point, but now his sniffles were quiet and timid as though he was afraid of being heard. 

“Sweetie, I’m here. It’s okay.” 

Dean’s eyes drifted up to him. Castiel didn’t like the glassy, dazed sheen that filled them. How Little was he exactly? 

“You’re safe. I’m here, baby. I’m not going to let anything hurt you,” he promised. Dean remained silent and listless. A few more tears slid down his flushed cheeks. 

“I need to check your head space now,” Castiel explained just in chance that Dean was actually Big enough to still understand. 

“Can you squeeze my hands, honey?” 

Dean’s fingers curled around Castiel’s hands, but it wasn’t a true squeeze. It felt more like a grasping reflex—an automatic, infant-like gesture. Castiel winced and moved on. He’d hoped Dean’s Drop wasn’t severe, but his hope was dwindling. Trauma-induced drops were never pretty. 

“Can you say my name?” 

_Silence._

Castiel reached down and inched the non-skid socks off Dean’s limp feet. He stroked along the bottom of Dean’s soles and cringed. Dean’s toes fanned out backward in response. Positive Babinski. Dean’s head space was younger than 18 months. 

“Let’s try head ‘nods’ and ‘shakes.’ Nod for ‘yes,’ shake for ‘no,’” Cas prodded insistently. “Are you Big right now?” Dean stared back at Castiel with weepy, empty eyes. “Can you understand me?” 

_Nothing._

Castiel heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his greasy curls. _Well..._

He tapped out a quick text to Charlie as he mentally reviewed the remainder of his schedule for the day. If Dean was going to be Little for the unforeseen future, their already tight schedule was about to get even rougher. Dean couldn’t be left alone for long while he was this Little. Charlie would need to check on him more frequently. Sandi would need to start calling patients and letting them know how late they were running. 

_For the love of--_

“Okay, baby, let’s make sure you’re clean and comfy.” Castiel forced a smile on his face and rubbed Dean’s moist, blotching cheeks dry. He gingerly scooped him up and cursed the knot of tension squeezing his lower back. He felt old. Dean was still underweight and frail, but the few pounds he’d managed to gain were definitely making themselves known to Cas’ lumbar region. 

Dean curled into Castiel’s grasp and snuffled warmly into the crook of his neck. Cas gave his bottom an experimental pat and winced at the soggy squish. It was expected, really. Sudden Drops almost always equaled sudden losses of continence. They shuffled over to the changing table and Cas went through a quick diaper change. Dean barely regarded him. He’d stuffed three fingers in his mouth and was sucking contentedly. Castiel fished around for a fresh sleeper and wiggled Dean’s limp arms and legs into the appropriate holes. He popped a paci into his mouth and gave his belly a soft rub. Not quite so bony and sunken. 

“Alright, sweetie, let’s get you off to nap time. You’ve had a rough morning. You saw something scary, honey? I’ll take a look at it in just a moment. I wish you hadn’t seen it—whatever it was. You shouldn’t have to be scared anymore. You’re safe.” 

He laid Dean in his crib and tucked a blanket around him. He rubbed his forehead and hummed softly as he started up the star mobile swaying above the crib. He waited tentatively to see whether Dean would relax into his nap. He’d try a bottle if he needed to—anything to help Dean feel calm and safe enough to rest. Drops were exhausting. He needed some quiet time. 

It took several long minutes, but Dean’s eyes began steadily drooping. Castiel kept humming. Dean leaned into his touch and finally let his eyes close. Castiel crept out of the nursery, heaving a sigh of relief. At least Dean was comfortable and resting. The nap would give them a slight buffer to their schedule. 

Charlie met him outside the nursery several minutes later. She nodded approvingly when she heard Dean was down for a nap. 

“He’s young, Charlie. 18 months or so judging by the reflexes that are still present. I have no idea how long it will last.” 

“I can peak in on him the next hour or two. The two vaccines are finished and I can do a few of the basic well-Little exams if you want.” 

Castiel was scrolling through his phone’s schedule. He nodded wearily and began tapping through the patient names for a quick review. 

“I’ll have Sandi call the 3-5 appointments—let them know we’re running behind.” 

“Oh, one more thing Cassy,” Charlie interupted with a wince. “There was a phone call right before Dean Dropped.” She quickly went through the caregiver’s frantic phone call and hysterical description of her Little’s condition. Castiel frowned quizically and worked the muscles of his jaw. 

“It sounds like poisoning. A medication reaction or overdose maybe?” 

Charlie nodded. “I was going to refer them to the hospital, but something sounded off about it.” 

“Off?” 

“Yeah, I thought you should be the one to do the exam. I mean, given your experience with Dean.” 

“My experience?” 

“Cas, the poisoning symptoms aside, the caregiver mentioned something. She said her Little wasn’t acting Big or Little exactly. She couldn’t figure out their exact head space.” 

Castiel’s eyes flew open in surprise. In-Betweening was a relatively rare occurrence for Littles. It correlated with trauma and abuse, but it wasn’t a common diagnosis by any means. What were the odds of another Little showing symptoms of in-betweening when Dean was just diagnosed? 

“Yes, I want to see this Little. I want to be sure it’s actually in-betweening, not something else.” 

Castiel’s phone erupted in a chorus of urgent vibrations. He glanced at the screen and froze at the contact name glaring back at him. 

Jeanine Lamb. 

_Oh crap._

“Charlie, I need to take this. I’ll be in with the next patient as soon as I’m done.” 

“Roger that, Sandi and I will start calling the later patients.” 

“Bless you.” 

“Live long and prosper.” 

Castiel fast-stepped his way into his office and answered the call. 

“Doctor Novak, have you seen the news recently?” 

Castiel’s mind flew back to early that morning. He’d watched bits and pieces of some early morning talk show. Surely Jeanine wasn’t referring to The Early Bird? They’d been doing some disgusting recipe for breakfast fritatta. 

“Castiel, details of Dean’s case leaked to the media this afternoon. They broadcasted very sensitive details.” 

_Oh._

_Oh, shi--_

“How did this happen? You said everything was being kept secret until more evidence was gathered.” 

“It was. We haven’t found the source of the leak. Yet.” 

Castiel winced at the unspoken threat. Jeanine was on the war path. God help whoever had leaked the information! 

“You haven’t seen the new story yet?” 

“No, it’s been very busy today. I’m looking for it right now. What’s the plan?” 

Castiel dove behind his desk and pulled a quick internet search of the day’s news. The top article made his heart seize. 

_Winchester_. 

Dean’s Drop. 

Charlie had said he’d seen something upsetting on her tablet, but she hadn’t had time to go into detail. This must have been what Dean had accidentally found. He’d seen the news story on his discovery. 

There was more. So much morel. Castiel’s eyes flew across the computer screen and he raised a hand to his pulsing forehead. This was bad. 

“The media knows that Dean was found abandoned in his broken-down car. They also know that Dean is an unclassified, technically abandoned Little. They don’t seem to know where he’s being kept, Thank God.” 

“They do now,” Castiel interrupted. 

“What?” 

“I’m on a news page right now. It was updated an hour ago. They included my office name—my name. They said Dean was abused and currently in unstable condition.” 

Jeanine swore under her breath and Castiel heard a door slam on the other end of the line. 

“Castiel, you’ve seen the article so you know what Dean was found with in that car.” 

“A trunk full of illegal Little suppressants.” 

“Thousands of dollars' worth of illegal medication. Whoever Dean was with was transporting suppressors. Drug trafficking.” 

“Dean told me that his father had him taking suppressors to hide his classification. He would show signs of a Drop and his father either gave him a pill or an injection to stop it.” 

“We suspected the father was the owner of the drugs. His absence is incriminating enough. The police have an all-points bulletin out for him, but there haven’t been any reports so far. His father is still our top suspect at this point. If not for the drugs than Dean’s abuse.” 

“Jeanine, why would the drugs have been abandoned? I can’t imagine Winchester willingly leaving so much behind. He would have to have known it would be found and confiscated or stolen.” 

“I don’t have answers for that.” Jeanine sighed over the line. “We suspect he may have left it behind to run if he felt like the authorities were coming too close. There is another possibility,” she continued. “Dean may have taken the drugs and set off on his own.” 

“He couldn’t be involved in this,” Castiel argued. “There’s no way he was deliberately selling this on his own.” 

“Castiel, Dean’s been dependent on those drugs for years. He doesn’t know any other way.” 

“No,” Cas argued. “There has to be another explanation.” 

“He can’t stay with you any longer if the news is spreading details of his location.” 

The abrupt transition of conversation jarred Castiel. He wanted to believe he’d heard wrong. Surely Jeanine wasn’t suggesting what he feared. 

“I’ll need to relocate him somewhere safe. He’s a top witness. Anyone else that’s involved with the drugs will come for him if they feel he’s a threat to their security.” 

“He’s not well,” Castiel shot back as calmly as he could. “He’s still receiving care—medically and mentally. I don’t have a set head space on him yet. He Dropped hard just awhile ago.” 

Jeanine sighed again over the line. It actually seemed like she regretted what she was about to say. “Castiel, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to move Dean to another facility much sooner than I anticipated. By the end of this week at the latest. I’d like you to put together some recommendations for group nursery homes, specifically ones that specialize in trauma and disabilities. I’d like you to be involved in this decision. It’s only right since you’re so familiar with Dean. I’ll be sure the authorities post a guard at your office tonight.” 

Castiel heard himself agree. It was as if he’d stepped outside the shell of his own body. He promised Jeanine he’d have a list of recommended nursery homes by the next day. He even offered to call several directors personally to see whether they’d be open to Dean’s transition. 

Castiel felt well and truly numb. 

Dean was leaving. 

* * *

Sam rocked on the balls of his feet. The last time he’d felt this jittery he’d been standing outside his first class when he’d first started college. He'd been alone in a massive school in a brand-new state with no one but strangers. Future completely uncertain and up for grabs. 

That had been a good kind of excitement. An open future of possibilities. Freedom. 

There was nothing liberating about the kind of anxiety etching through his nerves now. 

“Mr. Winchester?” 

Sam jerked back into the present, eyes settling on the rigid, imposing women before him. 

“Mrs. Lamb,” he returned as calmly as he could. 

“I’d like to review the stipulations of your supervised visitation before you see your brother.” She pulled out a sheath of papers and began thumbing through them. She retrieved one and began moving down a numbered list with a perfectly manicured fingernail. 

“You will not exchange any personal contact information—email, phone, address, etc. No personal belongings may be exchanged. No aggressive or over-stimulating behavior. This includes noise, yelling, hostile physical contact, etc. If at any time your presence seems harmful to Dean’s physical or mental state, you will be asked to leave.” 

Jeanine paused. 

“I’d like to go on record that your visitations are the result of Dr. Novak’s pressing. He was very adamant that your presence would be therapeutic to Dean, particularly since we are in the process of moving him to a more secure facility. He'll be moving to a new location in a few days and will be unavailable for visitation initially. With that being said, I trust you won’t abuse today's visit in any way?” 

Sam swallowed back a flood of arguments. How dare this woman think he would knowingly hurt Dean. After all that had happened! 

“Dean is safe with me,” Sam promised, gaze level. 

Jeanine gave a curt nod and motioned him to the door. Sam turned his back to her and opened the door of the nursery. He shoved her presence from his mind and shut the door behind him. She was dead to him now. All that mattered was the fact his brother was here and he was finally allowed to see him again. 

Dean was here. 

It had been almost 4 years since he’d first left for school. He’d completely blown his dad off—no hugs, no promises to call, no goodbye. 

Dean was another story. He’d been the only one to wish him luck. They hadn’t spoken much over the years—a monthly check-in Dean had insisted on. It was barely more than a brief phone call at best. 

Sam froze just steps into the room. A red-haired woman sat at a table, smiling easily. She was setting a plate and cup before a slight, frail man. The man’s back was turned to Sam, but the sandy mused hair was familiar. Sam choked, one hand unconsciously flying to his mouth. The man’s back was hunched slightly as if the entire weight of the world was settled on his shoulders. Sam’s bitten off cry was just loud enough though. The man stiffened slightly, one hand clasping the edge of the table for support as if he was about to collapse. 

“You must be Sam,” the red hair woman began with a smile. She stood and placed herself between Sam and the man at the table. Her presence was welcoming, but Sam quickly felt the firm authority radiating from her slight figure. 

“I’m Charlie, Dr. Novak’s tech. Dean’s just having some lunch now.” She lowered her voice. “He’s still not feeling well and he may not seem like what you remember. Please be patient with him. Stay calm and try not to upset him. He’s only been Big for the past day or so and he’s still adjusting.” 

She turned back to Dean. “Dean, honey, I’ll be sticking around in here, but I’ll mind my own business. If you need me, just call.” 

I need to be present for legal reasons, but I’ll give you all the privacy I can,” Charlie explained to Sam. 

He watched the woman excuse herself to the other side of the room. She sat at a small desk and began sorting through a stack of manila folders. 

“S-Sammy?” 

Sam’s chest went tight and he turned back to find a pair of dull green eyes staring up at him expectantly. “You’re here.” 

“Dean!” 

Sam felt himself rush for the table, hands outstretched awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do with them. He wanted to hug Dean—hug him and never let go. What if he didn’t want a hug? What if it hurt him? Scared him? He was a glass figure Sam was terrified of shattering. 

Dean answered his unspoken question. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and drew him close, a half-sob tearing from his throat. 

“Dean... ‘m’sorry,” Sam croaked, face buried in Dean’s hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Shut up, Jerk. It’s okay.” 

Sam drew back and stared Dean fully in the face for the first time. 

His brother looked like a victim. New lines creased his face and dark smudges rested beneath his eyes. The eyes themselves looked sunken and haunted. Sam let his eyes drift closer in examination. The pale blue scrubs hung off Dean’s bony shoulders. His collarbone was prominent and sharp. 

Sam’s eyes froze on the most obvious red flag. 

The tube trailing from Dean’s nose. It was taped carefully across his cheek and looped out of the way behind his left ear. 

“Your face’ll freeze like that, Sammy,” Dean remarked wryly. He self-consciously shifted in his seat, picking at the hem of his scrubs. Sam watched him reach up to touch where the tube looped around his ear as if checking to see if it was in the right place. 

“Dean, I’m sorr--” 

“Don’t apologize. No more apologies, Sammy.” 

Dean’s voice was firm. Sam instantly shut up. Dean didn’t want pity; that much was clear. 

Silence settled over them and Sam’s chest ached. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he needed to. 

“You still in school?” Dean blurted suddenly. Sam saw the pained almost desperate look in Dean’s eyes. He’d felt the awkward silence just as badly and was desperately trying to fix it. 

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam forced a shy smile. “Just finishing my bachelors.” 

“You told me last check-in you applied for Law school?” 

“Got accepted Full ride.” 

A real smile split Dean’s face and new light filled his eyes. 

“Hell yeah you did!” Dean clasped his shoulder, grinning. “Expected nothing less, Sammy.” 

“Sam, not Sammy.” 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered with a smirk. 

Sam’s eyes flitted awkwardly about the room as the conversation stilled. His eyes froze on the crib just behind Dean. It was clearly recently used. A stuffed blue bunny sat proudly inside with a nest of blankets and a toy ring of plastic hearts. Teething ring, Sam’s brain supplied numbly. A changing table stood against the far wall with a stack of diapers neatly on top. 

Sam quickly tried to meet Dean’s gaze again, but the damage had been done. Dean had noticed where his eyes had ventured. 

“I-I’m Big now,” he fumbled, eyes downcast. “I wasn’t when they brought me here. I... I can’t stay Big all the time. I still Drop. A lot. And... and they take care of me.” 

Sam watched Dean struggle through the explanation. He swallowed back the pain and silently squeezed one of Dean’s hands. 

“Hey,” Sam struggled. “It’s okay. There... there’s nothing wrong with it.” 

Dean jerked his hand free and looked up again, a determined smile on his face. “Tell me about school,” he demanded. “What about that girl? Jess right? You said you guys got a place?” 

It was wrong. Sam hated it—the false smile and enthusiasm Dean was forcing himself through. He didn’t come here to brag about school or wallow in attention. When they had their monthly check-ins Dean spent the entire time drilling him on his life. He’d refused to talk about himself then. Dean needed him—had needed him for a long time. He wasn’t about to let this drop. Not now. 

“Dean, what happened?” he murmured carefully, voice soft. “When we talked, you never said anything about this. Who hurt you?” 

Dean froze like a deer in oncoming headlights. 

“Sam...” 

“I-I want to know what’s happened. You never told me you were in trouble. You were hurting. What happened?” 

“I don’t want to talk about this, Sammy,” Dean muttered, eyes averted. 

“Dean--” 

“NO!” 

Out of the corner of Sam’s eye, he saw Charlie quickly rise from the table. She hesitated; eyes vigilant. 

“Dean, I’m sorry. I just want to know how I can help.” 

Dean quieted, breaths coming slower. “I-I don’t know what’s happening anymore, Sam. I can’t control anything. Can’t even control myself now.” 

Dean looked up at him and met his gaze intently. “Promise me you won’t get anywhere near Dad. If he ever calls you—comes to visit—don't go near him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t help him.” 

“He did this to you,” Sam hissed. “I knew it! I always knew it!” 

“Sammy, promise me. You’ll stay away from him.” 

“I promise. Just... what happened Dean?” Sam pleaded. “I don’t know how to fix this.” 

Dean sighed and fiddled with the tube around his ear again. 

“Dunno, Sammy. Wish I did.” 

Dean smiled weakly. “Tell me about school... please? Or Jess? I-I don’t want to think about me anymore right now. Please?” 

Sam huffed a sigh and gave a watery smile he didn’t feel. He started talking. He described the tiny cracker-box of an apartment he and Jess were managing; his job at the bookstore between classes; his class schedule and his favorite teachers. 

Sam’s throat went dry and his voice trailed off. Dean was watching him but his gaze was odd and glassy. He brought a hand to his mouth and tucked his thumb inside, sucking hard. 

“D-Dean?” Sam croaked weakly. 

A sour odor hit Sam’s nose and horror bubbled up inside him. Dean batted at the plastic spoon before him in fascination. He brought the spoon to his mouth and gummed at curiously after pulling his thumb free. 

“Sam, Dean’s Dropped.” 

Sam jumped at the voice beside him. He looked up from where he was seated and found the woman, Charlie, smiling gently down at him. 

“D-Dropped?” he repeated dumbly. “This is what he’s like?” 

“We don’t know his age range just yet, but yeah, this is usually how it goes. Some Little drop slowly and gradually. You’re brother kinda plummets over the cliff. It hits him fast and hard. Strong emotion usually does it.” 

“What... what happens now?” 

“If you wanna step out, I’ll get him cleaned up and comfy. I can’t say how long he’ll be Little. It’s not set in stone. Dr. Novak is in. He wanted to talk to you about Dean’s care while you were here. He also wanted to be sure you understood what happens next after Dean is transferred to the group nursery home."

Sam felt himself being dismissed. 

No! He wasn’t about to abandon Dean again. 

“I’d like to stay,” he mustered. “I want to learn how to take care of him—see what he needs.” 

“Sam,” Charlie began. Her patient smile was still in place, but her argument was clear. 

“Please,” Sam forced out. “I wasn’t there for him. I want to be now—whatever happens.” 

Charlie hesitated, mind clearly working through her options. Finally, she gave a nod. “You can stay, but legally, I’m the only one that can care for him right now.” 

“That’s fine. I-I just want to know how. I want to understand.” Charlie smiled and suddenly took Sam’s large paw in her own birdlike grasp. 

“You’re a good guy, Sam. Don’t let the witch tell you otherwise.” She squared her shoulders. “Now, let’s get Deany clean and cozy. 

Charlie used a wheel chair to shift Dean over to the changing table. She strapped him down with one hand and rubbing his belly soothingly with the other. “Everything’s okay, sweetie. Gonna get you freshened up than we’ll find Mopsy, okay?” 

Dean whined miserably and stuck several fingers in his mouth. Charlie quickly eased the rubber nipple of a pacifier between Dean’s lips. 

“He’s got a pretty strong oral fixation,” she explained quietly. “We’re concerned about accidental bites—don't want him hurting his fingers by mistake. We try and keep a pacifier on stand-bye.” 

Sam went silent as he watched Charlie get to work. She moved confidently and quickly, clearly comfortable with her tasks. She kept up a gentle and casual commentary as she worked—sometimes to Sam to explain what she was doing but mostly to Dean. Sam gut ached hollowly as he watched Dean listlessly interact. He didn’t seem to notice most of what Charlie was doing. His eyes were quiet and innocent. He babbled and sighed, but remained fairly quiet and still. The pacifier bobbed in his mouth. 

“When Little’s Drop, they tend to become incontinent pretty quickly—all muscles relax,” Charlie explained as she began un-tapping the diaper already strapped about Dean’s waist. Sam averted his eyes, his gut churning. It felt wrong to be watching. Perverted. 

“Because Dean had such a serious infection from the diaper rash, we try to keep him as clean as we can. We can’t risk the infection coming back.” 

“Wh-what about when he’s Big?” 

Charlie paused and cocked her head quizzically. “Is he continent when he’s big?” she re-stated. Sam nodded. He didn’t know why he’d asked. It really wasn’t his business. Some part of him was desperate to know how much of the strong, capable brother remained. 

“Dean’s still in control when he’s Big—there have been some accidents, but he manages on his own pretty well. Cas talked him into wearing some extra protection all of the time just as extra security,” Charlie explained with a knowing smile and sad gentle eyes. Sam couldn’t look at her. “He’s still your brother, Sam.” 

Sam couldn’t answer. 

She went back to work, skillfully cleaning and tucking a fresh diaper beneath Dean’s hips. Sam caught a glimpse of the sharp hip bones and ribs poking up from Dean’s tight skin. The feeding tube taped to Dean’s nose flashed in his mind. He made a mental note to question Castiel closer regarding Dean’s health. Was he not eating? Could he eat? 

“Once I change him, I like to get him cozy in a sleeper or onesie. Little’s tend to be very touch-sensitive. Little clothing is much softer and gentler on the skin. It helps Dean feel more comfortable when he’s dropped if he’s wearing Little-specific clothes.” 

Within several minutes, she’d managed to thread Dean into a pale green footie sleeper. She clipped the pacifier to the front and eased the nipple back into Dean’s mouth. He accepted immediately and went to work suckling. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s go find your Mopsy.” Charlie wheeled him back across the room to a low baby gate. Sam trailed behind like a lost puppy. He watched Dean get deposited on his back inside the gated-off play area on top of a thick cushioned pad. 

“Little’s as young as Dean can get sores pretty easily from immobility. He’s so young he can’t change positions well. We keep him on a special pad to give his body some support and cushioned to prevent bed sores. He has to change positions at least every 2 hours or sooner. We also give him some range of motion exercises for his muscles—even passive movement can help prevent muscle wasting. It’s a risk if young Little’s drop for long periods of time.” 

Charlie settled the blue bunny from the crib on Dean’s belly and grinned when Dean eagerly snuggled the toy to his face. He gave a happy whine, his legs kicking out in excitement. 

“We try to keep him pretty stimulated when he’s Little—lots of toys, tummy time, music, the works. We weren’t sure how much he’s gotten in the past when Little, so we’re trying to make up for lost time.” 

“So... how long is he usually like this?” Sam struggled. 

“Depends. Sometimes a few hours; sometimes longer. He’s making up for lost time really. For Dean, it’s not unusually for him to stay Little for a days at a time.” 

“It’s safe?” 

“In general, Little's need a balance of both Big and Little time. Right now, Dean’s spending a lot of time Little or In-between head spaces. He’s been having trouble regulating his cycles so we’re watching him closely. I promise.” 

Charlie flicked on a blue tooth speaker on the wall and a soft nursery song drifted out. “We’ll let him play. I can take you to Castiel now if you’d like. You probably have lots of questions still.” 

“Actually,” Sam interpreted. “Can I just stay a little longer?" He couldn't take his eyes off Dean. He was still suckling at his pacifier, eyes wide and bright with contentment as he snuggled the blue bunny. "Please? I-I don’t want to leave him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick FYI, one of the the infant reflexes Castiel was testing (i.e. Babinski) is not normally positive for toddlers and adults. If positive ("toe-fanning"), it usually indicates a severe neurological injury. For the sake of my story and differentiating between Big Dean and Little Dean, I chose to use the presence of the Babinski and similar infant reflexes. I'll probably be referencing these again in the future so I wanted to be clear. 
> 
> Also, Dean is not aware that he is being transferred to another facility soon. So yes... it's about to hit the fan. 0_0


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's moving day for Dean and Castiel can't quite bring himself to say good bye. Dean begins to realize that the cure is sometimes worse than the illness when it comes to his head space issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **content warning: Up until now, Castiel's methods for managing Dean's head space issues (i.e. 'In-Betweening') have been relatively permissive and supportive. He's never been a fan of using medication to force Dean into a head space and he only used it once under duress. With Dean's transition into a new care facility, he is facing new and more rigid care from different caregivers with different views on head spaces. I want to stress that the care Dean is about to receive at the new facility is *not* intended to be abusive or wrong in this au. The caregivers he meets may seem overly strict and rigid, but they do genuinely want to help Dean (even if their methods are flawed in this 'verse). He will have the support and love he needs even if it is "tough love." He will be going back to Cas <3 I'm hoping this new tone doesn't turn anyone off the story but I understand not everyone may agree. If you're not a fan, please do not leave any hate.

Dean stared hard at his blue bottle and tried to convince himself it was just a plain sports bottle. Just a normal bottle with a high-calorie, high-protein supplement drink inside. Everyone drank those right? Athletes. Joggers. There was nothing weird about drinking from a sports bottle. 

Except the fact it was the _only_ thing he could drink from when he was Big. 

Cas had stumbled upon this trick several days previous. He'd been desperate to find a way to help Dean keep normal food and water down when he was Big. Dean's stomach was still irrationally adverse to Big food and Cas was concerned about the dependence Dean had on his feeding tube. He needed to transition back onto normal eating and drinking. After pouring through several dozen studies on Little nutrition and food aversion, Cas had given Dean a sports bottle with a thick, stubby rubber drinking spout. It wasn't a bottle nipple but it had the same weight and shape on Dean's tongue. Dean had declared the whole experiment stupid, but he couldn't deny the success of drinking an entire protein shake without negative consequences. Dean claimed it was a fluke, but Charlie had blended a fruit smoothie and used the bottle to the same degree of success. Cas was jubilant about the small victory. Dean wasn't sure whether his ability to only drink/eat out of a sports bottle was actually a victory. Still, it meant he wasn't stuck using baby bottles all the time. That was a win in his book. 

"Dean, you'll need to finish that up on the road, sweetie." 

Dean rolled his eyes at the doctor. He was rushing about the room gathering last minute supplies and carefully packing the grey duffel in his arms. He looked frantic and the bags under his eyes seemed deeper and darker than usual. 

"You don't have to bring all of that crap."

Cas finally paused his restless activity. He turned and gave a watery smile that made Dean's chest hurt. "These are your toys, though," he argued. He held up Mopsy. "You got her when you first arrived here."

Dean looked away.

"You probably have other babies here that need it."

Cas looked like he wanted to argue, but he carefully closed his mouth instead and gave a pained smile. "If that's what you want, Dean," he acquired. "What about your blankie?"

Dean gave a snort and shrugged. "Whatever. You probably should just pack the stupid diapers. Those will probably take up plenty of room."

"Little chilly in here," Charlie remarked as she stepped briskly into the room. She gave Dean a significant look and he just rolled his eyes again at her blatant sarcasm. 

"What can I do, Boss man? Do you need another bag?" She seemed to be ignoring Dean's sour look and slouched body. Dean wasn't sure what would irritate him more. Her continuing to ignore his displeasure or her stopping to address him like the cranky toddler he was acting like. 

"I think we have everything else packed. Just last minute things."

"You forgot Mopsy," she offered, reaching down into the crib. Dean saw Castiel's pained expression, but the doctor quickly plastered a neutral smile over it like a layer of whitewash. 

"Dean thought perhaps Mopsy could stay here for the next Little that needs her. It was very kind of him to share."

Dean swallowed painfully past the rising lump in his throat. He slouched further in his seat at the small table and watched Cas and Charlie go through the last remaining minutes of packing. They muttered quiet questions to each other: "Enough clothes?" "Should we pack the remained of the protein formula?" "Enough pacifiers?"

Then the bags were finally full and Cas stopped in the center of the room and just stood there for a half beat. He turned and Dean couldn't stand the fortifying, gentle smile he was wearing. Dean found himself just really wanting a hug right then. and he hated himself even more for wanting it. Castiel gave the best hugs, though. Warm and secure. The smell of his cologne on his neck. Castiel never even mentioned the tears that sometimes started leaking from Dean's eyes unbidden. He didn't laugh or make a big deal. He would just hug Dean tighter and promise he was safe. He'd done just that when he'd finally announced that Dean was moving to a new facility. Dean's initial response had been raw terror and a long bout of tears. Cas had held him through the entire spell, even when the tears turned to betrayed anger.

Guild swam in Dean's stomach. He'd been so angry at Cas for shipping him off. He still was.

"Dean?"

Had Cas been talking to him?

"Are you ready to go? They're expecting us by noon."

Dean couldn't answer. There was nothing he could say. Charlie was suddenly at his side. She knelt down beside him and silently took his clenched, sweaty hand in her own. "Hey, there," she murmured. "You good?"

Dean gave an ugly snorting laugh that wasn't funny. Charlie could clearly see how very 'not good' he was. Why would she even ask?

"Dean, look at me, please, baby."

"Not a baby," Dean heard himself suddenly sob into Cas' chest. The man just tightened his hug and buried his face in Dean's hair and hummed softly. 

"Don't want to go," Dean choked out.

"I... I don't want you to go either," Cas whispered. "But I think they can really help you, though. They're good people. I know them. They're good friends of mine and I trust them."

Dean pressed his face deeper into Castiel embrace. He hated the loud sob that escaped. Why was he crying? He was acting so Little. Like such a stupid baby. Had he Dropped? He didn't feel Little. He just felt miserable and weak. He wanted to lie down, curl into a ball, and disappear. _In-Betweening_...That's what this was. He hated himself for it.

"You're going to be okay, Dean. They're going to take great care of you."

"Don't want them," Dean croaked. A thumb snuck its way into his mouth and he suckled so hard he left teeth marks in the skin. Cas made a tutting noise and slipped a pacifier inside. 

"Don't need it. Not Little." 

Castiel just cuddled him closer.

* * *

Missouri Moseley was a formidable woman. She felt like a fortress. Strong, impenetrable and fully capable of handling anyone's crisis. She took one look at Dean's miserable, slouched figure and gave a gentle, knowing smile. 

"Dean, my name is Dr. Missouri Moseley. I'm the founder and director of the Dede Memorial Home, but I also do a great deal of personal work here. I'll be here to help you settle in the best I can, but I need you to work with us, sweetie. I'll be straight with you, you be straight with us."

Dean looked up and gave a stilted nod before lowering his gaze again. Castiel reached across to take his hand and Dean hesitantly uncurled his fingers just enough to accept it. 

"I know you're more comfortable with Castiel so I'm going to invite him along on our tour of the facility. No goodbyes just yet, hon.'" Dean nodded again, secretly grateful. He was having a difficult time imagining what it would be like once Castiel left. 

The trio set off from Missouri's office at a gentle pace. Dean knew both Cas and Missouri were watching him like hawks. They were afraid he would drop unexpectedly. He didn't blame them. He could easily picture himself dropping in the middle of the hallway and face-planting on the worn linoleum like the crying baby he was. 

"This is our group therapy room," Missouri announced at the first door they came to. Dean stared hard from the doorway. The large room had been divided into two distinct sections with a low gate. The section closest to the door was a ring of soft bean bag chairs with small whiteboards lying in front of each one. 

"Several times a week, we have two therapists come and have a chat with our Little's here. Talking is difficult, though. We've found that the whiteboards help some communicate their feelings better. The therapy itself has helped many of our Little's learn a great deal about control and help--giving and receiving it." 

"The other section?" Castiel prodded helpfully. Dean knew the question was more for his benefit.

"The one on the right with the toys is for our Little's who are not able to age-up for therapy. We have a trained therapist that is specifically designated to work with any Little in a head space younger than 5 years. She does several forms of play therapy. For infants, therapy mostly consists of stimulation and monitored play."

The woman shepherded them from the room and down the hallway. "Here is our physical therapy room," she announced proudly. "The first room you saw focuses more on communication and mental health. This room deals with physical health--strength, balance, confidence."

Dean stared open mouthed at the brightly colored space. The first room had been so quiet and peaceful with warm lighting and soft colors. This room was the opposite. Bright, cheery colors and posters filled the walls. Signs with smiling Little's and sunshiny reminders like "Sharing is what friends do," and "Give hugs and smiles!" The room itself was filled with an array of equipment that intrigued and confused Dean equally. Plastic totes of balls and toys were neatly stacked on a shelf and several large play structures were lining the walls. One looked like a modified tree house complete with a tiny pirate flag on top. Several hammocks were hanging from two large foam poles and a large sunken pool of foam blocks filled the opposite wall. A sprawling table with various partitions stole Dean's eye. It was filled with things like squishy looking shapes, alphabet letters, and play sand complete with miniature tractors and trucks. 

"You might like our sensory table, Dean. A lot of Little's find it one of their favorites. Lots to do and play with."

"Sensory table?" he asked. His voice sounded hoarse and funny from his crying earlier but Missouri didn't seem to notice. 

"A lot of Little's from difficult backgrounds have sensory issues--things may feel very overwhelming very easily. Toys like our sensory table are a way of learning to experience different sensations in a controlled environment. They also help with things like fine motor coordination and learning to play with other Little's. All of our toys here in our physical therapy room are designed to help Little's who might be having difficulty with their physical strength and coordination. This type of play is important for muscle strength and balance." She gestured to the climbing ladders propped up against the miniature tree fort. "How does this sound to you Dean?"

He nodded tightly and looked at Cas for his reaction. The doctor was grinning encouragingly. "This sounds fun doesn't it Dean? Lot of new stuff to try."

Dean swallowed. He didn't want new things. He didn't want stupid toys and therapy rooms. He wanted the small quiet nursery he'd woken up in all those weeks ago.

"Alright, we'll continue," Missouri said with a glance at her watch. It's almost time for therapy in here, and I want to avoid a crowd while Dean's settling in," she explained. 

The group continued on the tour, pausing briefly at the group dining room and the medical wing. Dean recoiled from both. The rows of special high-chairs in the dining room set his skin crawling. He didn't want to picture himself trapped in one. The medical wing was just as unsettling. He felt his breath quicken at the site of the special hospital-styled cribs settled along the walls. The examination bed in the center of the room looked daunting and invasive. Castiel was watching him carefully. 

"Castiel has let us know about your medical history, Dean," Missouri explained in a soft, careful tone. "I know you've been very ill recently. You're doing so much better now, though. We're going to keep it that way. We want you happy and healthy."

They made their way to the last room on their tour. "This will be your room, Dean." 

There it was.

The terrifying finality of his situation. Dean was actually expected to move in here. This was going to be his new prison. 

Castiel was going to leave him here with these strangers and Dean would be completely vulnerable.

"We do our best to let every Little have their own private space. You'll be able to decorate in here if you like. If you have any special toys or belongings, they'll be safe in here with you."

Missouri kept talking, but Dean stopped listening. He was staring stricken at the simple room before him. 

It contained both a crib and a separate bed with small rails along the upper portion of the sides. A low bookshelf and table with rails along the top completed the furniture. The window was a welcome addition. Dean could just barely spot Cas' car outside in the parking lot. 

Dean looked over at the closet and finally noticed his two duffel bags settled inside. His stomach gave a lurch. 

"Dean, I'll let you have some time to say your goodbyes to Castiel now." Missouri's smile was soft but business-like. She excused herself and Dean looked at Castiel with a surge of desperation. 

"P-Please," he whispered. "Don't make me stay here."

"Dean," Castiel murmured. He ran a hand through his curls and heaved a heavy sigh. He looked so old and tired. "You aren't safe at my office anymore. Not if the news and God knows who else knows where you are. I can't take the chance of someone from your past coming and hurting you."

"Doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Castiel immediately shot back. "It matters to me very very much. I want you to be safe and cared for." He paused as if considering his next words. "This is a good place for you. I know it's difficult but they can take so much better care of you than I can. They have resources--"

"I don't care about their stupid toys and their stupid therapy!"

"You need more than what I've been giving you. Medically, you're recovering just fine, but you have needs that I've not been meeting. You should be able to fully embrace your designation. to be as Little as you want but not trapped like that. You should be able to choose your head space."

Dean looked away sharply. Cas wasn't listening to him! He didn't care what he wanted. He was dumping him. 

"Whatever."

"Dean--"

"Just go already! You don't have to pretend like this is some hard goodbye. I've screwed up your schedule long enough. You can go back to normal now."

"Dean, please."

"Just leave me alone!"

A stunned, ugly silence fell like a heavy blanket across the room. Dean saw Castiel take a step back as though he'd been struck. 

"Castiel, I'll walk you to my office." Missouri had returned. She placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder and ushered him away. Once they were out in the hallway, Dean heard their muffled voices softly disappearing. 

Castiel was gone. 

He'd left him.

Dean shuffled over to the bed robotically. A numb chill buzzed through him. He was alone. He sat and stared at the wall. He didn't even notice how hard he was biting his lip until he tasted the faint metallic twang of blood on his tongue. 

* * *

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He's just hurtin' really bad right now. He feels a bit betrayed and abandoned."

"He doesn't understand. I had hoped he would see why I was doing this."

"Castiel, he's Little. A very hurt, confused Little that's had no real love or stability from what I've heard. You get a person used to being abandoned and that's all they see. Every goodbye is the end for them."

"I-I can still visit right? We talked about visitation on the phone."

Missouri quirked a sad smile. She squeezed Cas' hand. "We did talk about visits. You may, but I want you to consider waiting a bit longer than you wanted. I know it hurts, but you coming back right away to check on Dean is liable to cause more damage than good right now. He needs to focus on settling in and adjusting. Please give us a few weeks to get him on his feet. By then, he'll be more likely to welcome you back and not resent you. He needs some healin' time." 

Cas gave a shallow sigh and nodded. He gave Missouri a final smile and turned to leave. "You'll call me with updates? Please?"

"Of course, Castiel. I'll check-in with you several times a week and let you know how he's fairing."

"Thank you, Missouri. I knew this would be hard... I should be handling this better."

Missouri gave Cas a long, careful look that confused him when he looked up and met her gaze. 

"Cas, I feel I should ask," she began. "Have you considered your relationship with Dean?"

* * *

Dean wasn't sure how long he'd been in his new room. It might have been an hour. Maybe more, maybe less. He didn't really care. He just sat there and tried to keep breathing. He did the counting thing Cas sometimes did with him when he was panicky. _'In for 5, hold for 5, out for 5.'_ Dean kept breathing and counting, trying to ignore the prickles of unease on his skin. He was alone in a strange, big building with no way out.

"Dean?"

He looked up sharply at the new voice. 

"I'm Benny Lafitte. I'm a nurse here. Miss Missouri asked me to help you get settled in." The man's voice was deep and rough. It was a big voice but somehow it didn't sound threatening. There was a gentle lilt to some of the words that Dean didn't quite recognize. 

"Hi," Dean managed to stammer out. 

"It's lunchtime, but Cas let us know about your eatin' habits for the moment. We can skip the group dining room and I'll see about getting you a bottle in just a bit. You and me are due down at medical for a quick look-over."

Dean shivered. He was in no mood to leave his room, let along go to the medical wing with a strange man. 

"Dean, I know this has got to be nerve-wracking. I'll do my best to talk you through everything before it happens. No surprises. No tricks."

Dean stared hard, waiting to see the tell-tale signs of lies and trickery. They never came. The man's face stayed open and gentle. 

"I know your friend Castiel personally. If you trust him, you can trust me."

_Castiel left me here!_

"Fine," Dean muttered. He followed the man from his room, arms crossed protectively across his chest. 

The walk was quiet and Benny seemed comfortable with the stretch of silence. When they made it to the medical room, Dean froze. 

"We'll go through this as fast and careful as we can. I know you hate this and I'm not about to torture you."

Benny nodded reassuringly and Dean's feet unfroze. Benny closed the door behind him. He quickly explained the next steps. The man spoke with such confidence and quiet authority, Dean found himself silently obeying. 

Dean shivered miserably as he stepped onto the scale. He wanted his clothes back. The nurse had asked him to strip down to get as accurate a weight as possible. Since Dean was still so underweight, they needed a baseline to carefully watch. Benny didn't mention the thick diaper Castiel had talked him into wearing that morning for extra protection. Benny jotted the weight down on a clipboard and nodded approvingly. Dean started to struggle back into his clothes, but Benny stopped him. 

"One sec, little 'un. Go ahead and hop up on the table for just a bit. I want to take a quick listen to your heart, lungs, and tummy. No one's watching. Just you and me; I promise." 

Dean acquiesced to the exam. He straightened out of his slouched hunch under Benny's gentle hands. The stethoscope was warmed and placed gently on Dean's bare skin. Benny listened carefully and nodded to himself. 

"Go ahead and lay flat for me." Benny helped him down, one hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just going to feel your tummy. Any pain when I press?"

Dean shook his head. 

"Okay, can you give my hands a big squeeze for me?"

Dean obeyed. 

"Push your legs out against my hands?"

Dean pushed, but the man's hands proved harder. 

"You've not been able to walk much, I'm guessing," Benny probed. 

"Felt too crappy... was too weak for a long time and Cas didn't like it. Afraid I would fall." Benny nodded understandingly. 

"We'll get you up and walking more. The physical therapy room as some great toys and equipment. We'll get your muscle back."

Benny was snapping on a pair of blue gloves and Dean's heart began thudding painfully in his chest. 

"Okay, Dean, I need to take a quick look inside your diaper. Cas mentioned that horrible rash you came in with. I'm glad he caught it when he did, but I want to be sure there's no sign of it's return."

Dean felt himself leave his body for just a brief moment. He lay back and stared numbly at the ceiling. Benny's hands were incredibly gentle as he peeled back the tabs of the diaper and pulled the front down. Benny was quick and careful, his hands never idling longer than necessary. He asked Dean a series of embarrassing questions. Things like 'Any pain when he went to the bathroom?' 'Any pain at all?' 'Was he incontinent all the time or just when he Dropped?'

Dean exhaled weakly when the front of the diaper was pulled back up. Benny didn't tape it. He reached beneath the exam table and produced a brand new diaper and wipes. 

Dean instantly began to protest, but Benny's stifled his arguments with his easy-going confidence and authority. "Until we assess your continence more closely, we need you wearing protection for now, little 'un."

The diaper change went about as well as could be expected. Benny wasn't Castiel, but he seemed to be trying hard to keep Dean at ease and comfortable under the circumstances. He allowed Dean to get dressed again and then performed a quick check of his feeding tube. All seemed to be in order and Dean breathed a sigh of relief as Benny walked him to the door of the medical suite. There was a quiet knock on the door and Benny opened it to find a smiling woman waiting on the other side. Dean felt ambushed. 

"Dean, this is Ellen Harvelle. She's one of our therapists here and she'll be talking you through your transition here."

"Hello, Dean, it's good to meet you. Cas told us some really great things about you."

Dean didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or eager. What had Cas said about him? What good things?  
  


"Let's head on over to my office and we can get to know each other better."

Dean followed her, but found himself hesitating. He looked back over his shoulder and watched Benny tearing the paper from the exam table and replacing it with a fresh sheet. 

"Dean?" 

He quickly looked back at the woman. 

"Benny will actually be joining us in just a bit. I know it's sometime nice to have a familiar face around."

"I'm fine," Dean forced back. He followed her to a small, cozy room across from the medical suite. She motioned to the over-stuffed couch across from her desk. 

"We'll have time to get to know each other better in the upcoming days, but we won't chit-chat too much right now. First days here can be very overwhelming so I don't want to drag this out." She paused and smiled reassuringly. "I feel you'd prefer it if I were blunt with you," she started. "You seem like someone who values straightforward directions and explanations." She waited for his nod and continued. "Because of your difficultly managing your head spaces, we'll need to be a tad more strict with your therapy here with us. In-Betweening is a very dangerous and unpredictable disorder. It needs to be managed aggressively to keep you safe. This usually looks like a very strict routine and consistency. We can trick your mind into recognizing set times when you're Big and when you're LIttle so they stop bleeding together. Does that make sense?"

Dean nodded, but he felt himself begin to frown. What did she mean by strict. 

"I'm going to go over this routine and then we'll discuss your feelings about it and I'll answer any questions." She pulled a chart from her desk and scooted it over to Dean so he could see it. The days of the week were outlined in big block squares of various colors. They had words like "therapy" and "recess" typed inside. The closer Dean looked, the more he hated it. "Meal," "Bath," "Medical," and "Assessment" stood out on several of the days. Were they going to micromanage his entire life?

"Let's talk about the colors first," Ellen interrupted. "Blue is for Big. Easy to remember. The sections of time that are blue will be the periods of each day you will be Big. You'll be treated as an adult and expected to behave as one. You can enjoy older activities and free-time. If there are therapy or doctor appointments that require your older head space, your schedule will be arranged to allow for that. We do want your insight and choices in your care as much as possible."

Dean wanted to argue. He wanted to yell about how crappy and ridiculous this whole thing was. Did they not know that he Dropped whenever his stupid brain wanted? He had no control. It wasn't like he could just choose to be Big whenever the stupid colored blocks said he was!

"The other color on your chart is also important. Yellow. The yellow squares on your chart show when you'll be expected to be Little. Cas mentioned that although he hasn't been able to get one specific age for you because of your head space issues, he's narrowed your age down to about 18 months to 3 years. That will be the age range we use to care for you during the yellow time blocks. You'll be cared in every way--food, clothes, toys, naps, interactions with other Little's when appropriate."

Ellen paused and looked at Dean carefully. She seemed to be assessing his reaction. "You have questions, Dean." She didn't seem mad or upset. She looked to be control in every way. 

"I-I can't control my head space," Dean finally blurted out after a long, painful hesitation. He hated saying it out loud! Why would she make him state the obvious? Didn't Cas tell her about all of this? "It doesn't matter when the squares say I'm Big or Little. I just Drop whenever. I can't follow this."

"Dean," Ellen began. "We've found with experience that one of the best ways to control unstable head spaces is routine and consistency. This means we set up specific times for each head space and stick to it. We can use medication if we need to, but we prefer not to if possible."

"I can't just stop and be Little when it says though."

"During the time frames that are yellow, we'll be treating you according to your age range--18 months to 3 years. We'll get you dressed appropriately and wearing protection and you'll be cared for as though you were Little regardless of whether you've Dropped. During those times, we'd like you to act accordingly even if you're still Big. If you're unable to, we can help you with some medication to ease the transition along. The research shows that by consistently practicing this scheduling and acting out your age range, you train your mind to relax into your head space rather than Dropping suddenly and traumatically like you have been. Dropping doesn't have to be abrupt and scary, Dean. We want to help this become easy and even enjoyable for you."

Dean might have sworn. He wasn't quite sure. He knew he was yelling though. His arms and neck were burning hotly with pain. This was ridiculous! They were going to force him to be a baby! Cas never did this! He never forced Dean to act Big or Little. He was just there and ready to help regardless. Cas would never force Dean to humiliate himself like this.

"No, I'm not doing this." Dean kept shaking his head. He felt his chest heaving with rapid breaths that didn't actually get him any air. "You can't make me act like a baby. I'm not like this!" He raked his nails across his neck in a desperate burst of anxiety and the burning grew hotter.

"Dean, it would only be for specific times of the day. We have no intention of keeping you Little all the time. You will have freedom and independence."

"What about when you want to force me to be Big? You gonna just dress me up in a suit and tie and make me sit up? I can't control this! I can't just 'be Big'!"

"Which is why we're going to help you,' Ellen interrupted. "Cas has been very worried about your head spaces. He wants you to gain some control and normalcy. During the times we want you to practice being big, we have medication we will give to help bring you out of your head space if you're still Little. With time and practice, we can train your mind and body to work in synch."

Dean swallowed back a volley of curses. The room was spinning around him. What fresh hell had he fallen into?

There was a knock on the door and Benny let himself inside. He took a seat next to Dean and smiled easily. Dean didn't return it. 

"Benny will be inducing a quick Drop right now. I need to see your Little head space to confirm the age range Castiel recommended. Afterward, we'll use a reversal agent to bring you back up so I can observe how you handle the transition."

"No, I don't want to Drop and I don't want drugs. Cas never used drugs!"

"Dean, the medication we have is a controlled substance. It's used very carefully and monitored. Cas probably had access, but every medical professional has their own views on it. Just because he didnt' use it, doesn't mean it's bad."

Benny produced a blue injector pen. The needle was hidden inside the plastic out of site. 

"You won't even feel the pinch, hon. This will be fast and we'll be here with you the whole time. You're safe. I promise."

Dean felt hot tears threatening to leak from his eyes. He didn't want this. Why couldn't they just leave him be? His shirt sleeve was rolled up and Benny pressed the pen to his deltoid. Benny had been telling the truth. Dean didn't even feel the prick. He was already sagging backward on the couch as the world began to swim drunkenly before him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie... I was nervous posting this chapter. Don't hate me 0_0
> 
> *Edit: going off the concern in the comments, I wanted to explain the instance of non-consensual drug administration in this chapter. I definitely *do not* condone it or want to portray it as right, but it is part of this 'verse. It is wrong, but medicine is screwy in this au (like it often is for real-life minorities). There will be repercussions, but please do not think of Ellen or Benny as evil in this case for what they did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the fall-out of Dean's disastrous first day, his new caregivers quickly learn some changes are in order. Dean is reunited with an old friend and a new one arrives to save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who felt guilty about the misery I left you all in after the last chapter. I do apologize for the trauma. Consider this very early update an apology. I can't promise that everything about Dean's situation will be fixed overnight but I can offer some early fluff. Dean gets some happy times and new friends.

"Explain to me again what happened." 

"He was scratching himself. He has gouges in his arms and neck. He was clearly in distress and it was worsening over the course of our conversation about his treatment. I felt he needed to Drop for his emotional well-being. I needed to assess him. This is all written in my report."

"Ellen, we've discussed this. Not every Little responds to the same treatment. You know this."

"Mandatory Drops saved Kevin's life. Ash's too," Ellen pressed. "You saw them before and after. They're completely different Little's now. They can function now."

Missouri heaved a sigh and let her head rest on her hands. "Benny wasn't in favor of the Drop, but he told me he wanted to yield to your experience. You've been licensed longer than him--he trusted your judgement."

"And he still can. Dean needs help--firm decisions, structure, and consistency. He's clearly never gotten this before."

"He's currently curled up in a ball in the medical suite with Benny. He still hasn't come back up. Benny says it looks like full-blown in-betweening."

"We've talked about this. You were in favor of the scheduling. You've seen it work with my other patients."

Missouri rose stiffly from her seat and paced. "Ellen, I agree this type of therapy has worked before. It is a valid treatment for some, but I'm beginning to see the method in Castiel's previous treatment--why he was so permissive with Dean's head space. Dean clearly has some very severe phobias, no doubt centering on his past. We'll work with this. I didn't agree to bring him here to traumatize him."

"What do you suggest I do with him then?" Ellen snipped back. "We're supposed to be helping him regulate his head spaces. He needs to let go and let us help him."

"I'd like to reassign you," Missouri finally said after a long pause. 

"I've been preparing for Dean's treatment; I've changed my entire schedule to give him my attention," Ellen reminded her, eyes flashing.

"I'm reassigning you back to your previous patients," Missouri repeated, voice unwavering. "We've never had a patient with Dean's level of past abuse and head space instability. I'm willing and able to try anything I feel will help him. I told Dean we would be honest with him."

Ellen stood abruptly and regarded Missouri with a cold stare. "I've been working here longer than any other therapist. Who do you think can possibly help Dean better than me."

"I'm going to bring Garth in."

Ellen swore.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes and cuddled into the soft pink blankie tucked around him. It was warm and soft and it tickled his nose. He snuffled deeper and yawned into the folds. His paci fell out, but he was too sleepy to find it. He tucked his fingers in his mouth and sucked hard. 

Wait. 

Where was he. 

Dean's eyes flew open and he stared about. The room was pale blue and stark. It smelled like medicine and cleaning supplies. He couldn't smell the soft lavender oils Castiel sometimes used in his diffuser when Dean couldn't sleep. 

"Hey there, little un,'" a deep voice said. 

Dean jerked and instinctively curled deeper in his nest of blankies. He watched a large man approach and he felt his body give a jerk. His lower body suddenly went warm and wet. He felt squishy and icky. 

"I found a friend of yours. I think she's lonely and could use a cuddle."

Mopsy's kind eyes stared back at Dean and he gave a cry of joy as the Big Man held her out to him. Dean grasped her tightly and hugged her to his face. She was soft and gave the best hugs. He'd missed her!"

Wait. 

Hadn't Cas left Mopsy? Why was she here?

Dean felt his brain give an ache. He was confused and it seemed like it took a monumental effort to form solid words and thoughts. He wanted to cuddle Mopsy and sleep, but he couldn't ignore the pressing need he felt to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Dean, honey, can you understand me now?"

The Big Man was sitting down beside Dean's bed. He could see him through the raised side rails. Dean frowned at the sad look on the man's face. It made him look softer and gentle; definitely not as scary. 

"Dean, I'm sure Cas had used 'head shakes' and 'nods' with you're having trouble talking. Shake your head for 'no,' and nod for 'yes,' okay?"

Dean regarded the man carefully. He was the nurse from when he'd first arrived. He'd been nice and careful with him. Then he'd given him medicine. Bad medicine. He'd made Dean feel icky. 

Ugh! Dean frowned. He needed to use real words. He needed his brain to get Big enough to make sense and stop sounding so stupid. He couldn't help himself. 

"Can you nod for me if you understand, Dean?"

Dean waited a half-beat, still unsure if he wanted to talk. Then, he nodded. The man--Benny was his name, Dean finally remembered--gave a relieved smile. "Thank God. I thought we broke you."

Dean glared. He felt broken. 

"Dean, I'm apologizing. We shouldn't have forced you to Drop so suddenly--not when you were so upset. We aren't using medication on you again except for absolute emergencies. You had a very bad reaction. You're in-betweening. You've been like this for two days now. I'm not sure how much you remember."

Dean stared. _Two days. Holy...crap_.

"Dean, do you understand?"

Nod. 

"I'm extremely sorry. This wasn't how we wanted this to go. Ellen's treatment plans work--she's used to getting her way and succeeding with her plans. She does help Little's. But what she did with you wasn't appropriate. I should have refused. I shouldn't have gone along with it."

Dean felt a tiny glow of warm relief bloom deep inside him. Benny was good. He wasn't bad. He didn't like hurting him. 

"Dean, I won't ask you to forgive me. That's not fair of me. I do ask that you give me another chance. I want to help you here just like Cas was helping you."

 _Cas left me._

Dean nodded slowly. He looked down at Mopsy. She seemed happy to be back with him. She didn't look scared of Benny. If she was okay with Benny, he could be too. He held up Mopsy so Benny could see her.

Benny smiled, his eyes wrinkling softly. "Yeah, buddy, I see your friend. She's lovely." He paused. "Dean, do you feel Big at all right now?"

Dean hesitated before giving a shaky nod. It was there. His Big space was there, but just barely. He was Big enough to know he wasn't fully Big. 

"Can I get you cleaned up? You can't be comfortable." Dean swallowed hard. Benny had been careful with him before. He could trust him to help him now. He wanted to trust him. He nodded and let the large man un-tuck the blankets. He scooped him up in his large, well-muscled arms and shifted him onto the changing table nearby. Dean sucked in a breath and waited as Benny gently unsnapped the crotch of his onsie and began folding the material up and away to keep it clean. Dean sucked hard on his thumb and let his mind drift as Benny went to work. 

He was fast like Castiel, his hands never rough or impatient. He was dressing Dean in a pair of soft sweats and a fresh t-shirt when Dean realized he was actually done. 

"Dean, I'm going to get you a bottle and let you finish waking up a bit. Sound okay?" Dean's belly chose to growl his agreement with the plan. Benny quirked a smile at the soft rumble. He got Dean back into bed and left to fix the bottle. Dean managed to shift himself upright. He wasn't that Little. He could control most of his major muscles. He plopped himself up against his pillows and cuddled Mopsy while he waited. He chose to examine his room a bit closer. The bed itself wasn't a crib exactly. It was a normal bed, but the rails on the upper portion gave the impression it was for fragile, accident-prone sleepers. It reminded him of the beds little kids used when they were just learning to sleep outside a crib. The smell of medicine and cleaning supplies reminded him of the medical suite, but no scary equipment or drugs were in sight. He must be in a different room. 

Benny returned with a bottle and a washcloth. He smiled at Dean and nodded approvingly. "You're doing good, Dean. You got yourself up and about, I see." 

Dean smiled slightly at the praise. It felt good to do something on his own. 

"Would you like to hold the bottle?" 

Dean hesitated. Cas never let him hold the bottle when he was Little. To be fair, Dean never had wanted to. True, Dean wasn't actually Little right then, but it still felt weird to think of feeding himself. He nodded at Benny and hoped the man would understand. Benny gave a stout nod and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. He waited for Dean's nod of assent before he shifted Dean toward him until he was half-reclined against his chest. He raised the nipple to Dean's mouth and he gratefully accepted it. He gave an experimental suck and sighed in relief. It wasn't cold formula or gross tasting. Benny had used the same stuff Cas did. It tasted like he'd added extra chocolate or cinnamon. Something soft and sweet tempted Dean's senses. He suckled harder and leaned back into Benny's warm, solid chest. He wasn't Cas. He was far too large and bulky and his cologne smelled all wrong. Somehow, he still gave off a similar vibe. Secure. Safe. Serious. He'd made mistakes, but then, Cas had too. Cas had left him. He wasn't perfect. Dean's chest hurt. He wanted Cas. Bad.

"Hey now, I forgot to give this back. This little guy was cuddled up with Mopsy in your duffel." 

Dean was confused at the sudden announcement until he saw Benny tucking Mousie around him. His mouse blankie! 

Cas had packed Mopsy and his mousie! Even when he'd been awful and mean and told him not to, Cas had stared through his ugly facade and taken care of him in spite of himself. 

"There now, cozy and warm," Benny announced triumphantly. "If we could start over, Dean..." he began. "We really do want to help you here. Can we try again today?"

Dean didn't answer. He suckled harder at his bottle. All too soon, the last few drops were disappearing. He kept sucking, swallowing mouthfuls of air before Benny could tug the nipple free from his greedy lips. He scooped him up against his shoulder and began patting him hard. Dean grunted under the forceful thumps, but they didn't hurt. If anything they felt strangely nice. Relaxing even. Benny could thump harder than Cas. He hummed to himself and let his eyes close sleepily. Benny kept thumping his back, but one hand went up to gently rub at his hair. The huge hand was warm and Dean caught himself leaning into it.

The knock on the door several minutes later startled him. Benny gave a few final thumps before settling Dean back down onto the bed. He headed for the door and gave a happy greeting. 

Dean stared hard at the new visitor. It was a slight angular man with impossibly big ears and a grin that was even larger. 

"Amigo! Benny, my man," the stranger called out. "I've come to meet our new resident munchkin. I hear he's quite the charmer--all big green eyes, freckles, and puppy dog stares."

_Was he talking about him? What the ever-loving..._

"Dean," Benny interrupted. "This is Garth. He's a therapist here. A _play_ therapist to be exact," he quickly clarified. Benny seemed to see the fear sprouting in Dean's eyes at the word "therapist."

"Yeah, dude, all about that play. If it's not fun, than what's the point really?"

Dean just stared. This man was absolutely nothing like Ellen. He didn't feel like germ trapped under a microscope anymore. 

"Woah! Is that a bunny?!"

Dean pulled Mopsy closer on instinct. He didn't know this man. _She_ didn't know this man!

"Such a pretty lady. She looks like she's a super good friend. I bet she gives good hugs and cuddles."

Well, this Garth dude wasn't wrong. Mopsy did give the best hugs. Maybe Garth wasn't as stupid as he looked. Dean held up his Mousie and waited for a new reaction. What would the man think of his blankie?

"That. Is. The. _Coolest!_ It's a mouse _and_ it's a blanket! Benny you see this! It's the best of both worlds!"

Dean felt himself grinning. Maybe Garth wasn't so bad.

"Dean, I want you to meet a friend of mine now, okay?" Dean nodded hesitantly. 

Garth reached into a small bag and pulled his hand out several moments later. It was wearing a ratty, faded sock with blue button eyes. Dean just stared. 

"This is my friend, Mr. Fizzles. He's by partner here. We work together and he's a huge help. I mean, why talk to me if you can talk to this guy!?"

Dean rolled his eyes. He wasn't that Little. He knew it was a sock. A dirty sock to be exact. But then it happened. 

The sock started talking! Dean's eyes blew wide and he stared. 

"Hi, Dean! Pleased to meet ya! Wanna shake hands?"

Dean extended a hand, eyes wide and eager. Mr. Fizzles tucked himself into Dean's hand and squeezed. He was soft and warm and Dean couldn't help but giggle. 

"I'm just gonna go play and I wanted to invite you. You didn't get to see all the cool toys yet! I'll show you my favorites," Mr. Fizzles promised. Dean looked over at Benny. He was watching with a wide smile. He nodded eagerly at Dean. 

"You want to go try the play room, Dean? I'll take you over if you'd like." Dean looked back at Garth and he nodded too. 

"Yep, Dean, we can go head on over and play for a bit. Mr. Fizzles and I will be right there the whole time."

Dean nodded and extended his arms for Benny to pick him up. He cuddled into the firm embrace and kept his eyes on Garth and Mr. Fizzles as they headed out of the room. 

When they arrived in the play room, Garth instantly headed for the sensory table. He folded his thin legs under him and began pulling tiny buckets out. Benny sat Dean down beside him and Mr. Fizzles passed Dean a bucket. He dug his hands into the soft sand and hummed with pleasure at the texture. 

Garth and Benny were talking but Dean was too busy reaching for the tiny trucks he remembered from last time.

"Dean, honey, are you Big right now?"

Dean looked up at Benny for a brief confused moment before going back to his sand. He scooped up a clumsy fistful and smooshed it on his truck. 

* * *

"He's been Garthed."

"Brotha... how do you do it?"

"How am I so _ahhh-_ mazing you mean?"

Benny snorted and kept his eyes on Dean. He was happily scooping and squishing sand. He didn't seem to be aware of their conversation or even their presence. He had fully dropped. No more in-betweening.

"He didn't drop like this with Ellen," Benny murmured, his voice tense with guilt. "When he dropped then it looked like he'd been shot. He just sort of crumpled."

"That's the ugly side of meds," Garth remarked. His cheery, playful voice went quiet with seriousness. "I'm not saying meds aren't a thing and that they should never be used, but it's case by case basis. Not every Little reacts to them or even needs them."

"Ellen was so sure Dean did, though. He did give off the same distress Keven and Ash did. He reacted nothing like them though. Ellen was terrified. She'd never say it, but she was. I saw it in her."

Garth _hmmed_ thoughtfully to himself. "For such an extreme reaction, there's good chance Dean's been on this crap before. He was probably taking Drop stimulants. Little's that take them often usually build up a reaction of sorts. It really tweaks them out bad. Cas did mention Dean said his dad gave him some crap? Whatever that crap was..." Garth glared. "I'm just glad Missouri gave me the green light. I was itching to work with Dean when I heard about him."

"What are your plans."

"This," Garth responded easily. He spread his hands to the play room. "Little Dean has never been given a chance to play and enjoy being Little. We're gonna make up for lost time."

"And when he's Big?" Benny pressed. "He's not a talker. He's terrified."

Garth smiled softly. "That is where you come in, my amigo. He's gonna need more than just me to help him get comfortable. If we do a bit of networking, I think he'll start to loosen up when he sees he's got support people here. Folks that'll treat him right regardless of how he acts. Stability is key. Boundaries too. We give him a safe, structured environment and he'll see it's safe to open up a bit and start talking."

"Speaking of structure, were you wanting to use that schedule Ellen made up? I need to know when to plan his check-ups and weigh-ins, especially if eating is still hard for him. He might need some help with that feeding tube still."

Garth gave a thoughtful hum and looked over at Dean. He was currently buried up to his elbows in soft piles of sand. His eyes were bright with excitement and his tongue peaked out of his mouth in concentration as he wiggled his fingers free. Garth laughed and began marching several toy dinosaurs over to the pile of sand. Dean let out an excited squeak and reached for the new toys. Garth gave a mock roar and Dean giggled and tried to imitate the sound. It came out like a cross between a mewl and a grunt. Garth chortled proudly. 

"Yes and no," he finally responded to Benny's question. "I actually really like the idea of scheduled Drops and Big time. I've read some studies--probably the same ones Ellen did when she was organizing this. Scheduled Big and Little time is actually effective at treating In-Betweening. No meds though," Garth quickly added. "That is one zone Ellen and I can't come together on. I know she's old school like 95% of the other therapist and doctors and I'm just some weird red-neck hippie, but I'm not throwing more meds at Dean when he's already been shoved full of God knows what in his past. If he's having trouble Dropping, I'll break out Mr. Fizzles or we'll just have some quiet time together so he can relax. If he can't get Big, well... I'm not going to force him up. We'll use the schedule but we're not going to get ridiculous about it. Dean's a Little. A _hurt_ Little that needs hugs not drugs." Garth giggled. "Hey, that was a cool rhyme! That's prime t-shirt material right there!"

"I see we're making progress here?" Missouri stepped into the room with a beaming smile of relief. Dean looked up at her warily, but seemed to relax when she bent down and offered him a squishy toy bear that squeaked. He giggled hard at the funny sound and proceeded to bury it in the sand.

"Garth, this is amazing," Missouri remarked with wonder. "I never thought Dean would relax and play like this."

"Ha, I'd like to take a bow, but I think we both know my track record. It's not like I'm always this successful. When I tried Mr. Fizzles with Ash, he just started crying."

"Still, you do seem to be the right fit with Dean. Just like Ash and Ellen work best together."

"He needed her stability and firm hand. God knows I couldn't do a thing to help him."

"Well, you're definitely helping Dean. Don't you dare go anywhere!"

Garth laughed. "I don't plan to. As long as Dean seems happy with our arrangement I'll keep going. It's going to be interesting when he ages up. I'm not sure how Big Dean will like me."

"Remind me to be there for that," Benny interrupted. "I want to see what he thinks of Mr. Fizzles when he's Big."

Missouri gave a shudder. "Probably that same thing I think when I see that sock. Have you ever washed that thing?"

Garth chuckled. "Hey, now, you want me to wash all the good luck off?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter's fluff made up for some of the darkness last time. <3 Thanks for reading and sticking with this. I've gotten a lot of questions regarding the end-game for whether Dean will go back to Cas and/or get adopted. Yes! A big fat yes. That is end-game and Cas will be Dean's Daddy. There is hope.
> 
> EDIT: Hey guys! I got a Tumblr :) wynneforthewin


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean adjusts to his new daily schedule and lifestyle at the Bede Memorial Home, makes some art, and learns how to Drop without falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response over the past few chapters definitely blew me away--so many emotions! Thank you all for following the story. Your comments and encouragement keep me writing. I know that the amount of whump and hurt has been a steady presence in this fic and some readers have found it uncomfortable. Dean will be stabilizing now and more fluff will be available even if his problems aren't completely solved. Again, Castiel as his Caregiver is definitely end-game, rest assured. 
> 
> TW: Mentions of incontinence, brief flashback (nothing explicit), discussion of negative feelings, mention of suspected past sexual abuse (NOTHING explicit, I promise)
> 
> Kudos and credit to the amazing age play writer Mr_Phich for the concept of art therapy used in this chapter. I'm a huge fan of their writing style and portrayal of NSAP so I borrowed the art therapy idea. Full credit to them. Go read their fics NOW <3

Dean slowly opened his eyes and blinked sleepily up at his spinning [mobile](https://shoppehr.com/products/classic-mobile?variant=31928140071000&currency=USD&utm_medium=product_sync&utm_source=google&utm_content=sag_organic&utm_campaign=sag_organic&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIwfvvvqP26wIVQQPnCh3K6QrTEAQYBSABEgKyGPD_BwE). A soft, gray bunny smiled down at him and he found himself smiling back. He yawned wide enough to hear his jaw pop and he rolled over to snuggle deeper into his blankets. Mopsy was tucked neatly in his arms. He wasn't Little, but his bed was soft and warm and he was in no mood to get up. Bed was safe. 

He buried his head under his pillow at the cheerful whistle that approached. No! It was too early for this. 

"Cher, time to wake up now." 

Dean grumbled into his pillow, but he felt a large, firm body settling down at the edge of his bed. The presence was friendly, but solid like a rock. Benny wouldn't be letting him sleep in. Still, the man was always patient about Dean's aversion to early mornings. Dean knew Benny wouldn't rush him or be mean about it. 

"We got a nice day all planned," Benny coaxed. Dean felt a large hand rubbing his foot through the blankets. "Breakfast is biscuits and gravy." 

Dean tossed the pillow off his head and stared up at the nurse. 

"You serious?"

"Now, little 'un, would I lie about something as serious as gravy?" Benny grinned playfully and Dean smirked back. He ducked his head, suddenly feeling shy. Benny was so good at joking and playing around that Dean sometimes almost forgot how awkward he still felt in his new home even after a solid 2 weeks. No, he quickly corrected himself. This wasn't home. It wasn't all bad though either. The Dede Memorial Home was somewhere in between in an awkward no-man's-land. 

"What say we get you up and ready for the day. We'll try some breakfast then we'll go over your schedule. Huh, Cher?"

Dean nodded and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. He waited for Benny to slide the side rails of his bed down. They weren't that tall and they were really only to keep him in bed in case he Dropped in the middle of the night and tried rolling out of bed. He could probably climb over himself, but he'd gotten used to Benny's morning routine he didn't have the energy or mood to fight it anymore. Having help wasn't that bad.

Benny was humming something to himself as he worked. Dean didn't recognize the song, but he liked Benny's deep rumbly voice. It almost sounded like Cas's humming. 

Cas. Oh. Dean felt the brief hot flash of hurt and loneliness in his chest. 

"Hun, you feel safe to walk?"

"Yeah, can do it," Dean muttered. He swung his legs over the side and began a careful shuffle over to the low changing table against his bedroom wall. Benny had a gentle, guiding hand on his back as a safety measure, but Dean was proud to make the walk by himself without incident. He sat on the table and watched Benny gather his morning supplies: A basin of warm water with soap and washcloth, fresh clothes, and a diaper. Dean wrinkled his nose, but laid down to let Benny work. The nurse was never weird about his needs. Even when Dean had started having accidents all the time and mis-timing his bathroom breaks, Benny had taken the whole thing in stride and gently suggested Dean start wearing protection all the time instead of just when he slept. It felt like such a huge step backward in his progress. Dean had wanted more independence. Now he couldn't even make it to the bathroom in time.

"You gettin' lost in your head, honey?" The nurse had paused his work to stop and stare down. His eyes were soft and crinkled with worry along the edges.

Dean looked up at the nurse and shifted his hips upward so Benny could ease his sleep pants down. 

"Do I have to wear it? The whole day?"

"Your diaper?"

Dean nodded.

"Do you remember what Garth said at your last therapy session?"

Dean nodded again.

"I need to hear you use your words. It shows you understood."

Dean frowned slightly. As stubborn as he was, Benny was even more so. He was like a fortress sometimes. Not a crushing, mean one. Just firm and unwaveringly patient. 

"Being here and getting used to new things was a shock. My body might act Younger about it for a while."

"Right. You'er still adjusting. The diapers might not be forever. Let's see how you do today with your bathroom breaks and staying dry. We can always try pull-ups if you're doing better with hearing your body's signals."

Dean winced at the temperature change of the water and air as Benny helped him clean up and get him taped into a fresh diaper. Dean managed to wiggle into his pants and t-shirt by himself. Benny praised him and helped him scoot off the table and stand. Together, they headed downstairs to the dining room. Dean hated the soft crinkling sensation in his pants, but he knew he'd hate having an accident even more. The diapers were confining, but he couldn't deny the security they still provided. Besides, Garth and Benny were so chill about it. They acted like it was no big deal. Dean found himself slowly acquiescing to that same mindset. It didn't feel as wrong wearing them when nearly every other Little at the Home wore some form of protection too. He'd seen the tell-tale puffiness beneath some of the Little's pants. The other day, the pink and green edges of a pull-up peaked up out of the waistband of a Little when he'd bent over to grab a toy. Dean had stared unashamedly in shock as he felt an odd sense of kinship. 

"You still stuck in your head, De?" Benny was smiling at him again, eyes knowing. 

"Got a lot to think about lately," Dean admitted. 

"You and Garth should talk today. You should tell him how you feel about your protection. He wouldn't mind talking about it again."

"Who says I'm thinking about diapers?"

"I can see the gears whirlin' in your head." 

Dean shrugged. "It's weird... being here makes things feel different. Not so... _wrong_ I guess. I mean, everyone wears them. Everyone needs help."

"No feeling so alone?"

"Yeah, I guess that's it. I mean, I didn't really see any other Littles at Cas's. Here though--"

" _DEEEEAN!_ " 

Dean startled so badly, Benny had to reach out an arm and steady him. He felt the nurse's eyes razor-sharp and carefully assessing his balance. 

"Sit by me at breakfast!?" The new voice called out again. Dean smiled at the Little racing toward him in the hallway. 

"Alfie, remember inside voice, cher?"

"Sorry, Benny!" The boy stage-whispered. He grinned up at Dean, face radiating pure sunshine. Dean absently wondered whether the boy was this happy all the time or only when he was feeling especially little. To be honest, Dean had no idea if he'd even seen Alfie as Big since he arrived. The boy had always been a ball of pure sunshine and smiles. 

"Yeah, I'll sit with you," Dean promised with a smile. Alfie reached for a hand and Dean didn't have the heart to refuse. He saw Benny grin out of the corner of his eye as Alfie walked him over to the dining room to their usual seats. 

"Help, Benny?" Alfie begged when he'd reached his booster seat. Dean felt a small tug of jealously as he watched Benny help Alfie into his special seat. It wasn't a traditional high-chair and it didn't add any height. The sides of the chair were higher though and they provided extra support to keep Alfie upright and stable enough to eat without slipping. Dean didn't need a special chair. He wasn't even Little that morning, he thought proudly. Benny was his nurse though. Why couldn't Anna or someone else help Alfie. 

"Alright, little 'un. Your turn." Benny was smiling again like he could peer into Dean's brain and read every thought. When he helped Dean settle into his seat, his large, paw-like hand seemed to rest extra long on Dean's shoulder as he gave an understanding squeeze. Oh. Dean thought. Maybe he wasn't all the way Big. Was he in-betweening? He wasn't sure, but he knew he wanted a cuddle right then. Cas had been good at that--those spontaneous, stop-everything-let's-cuddle-really- quick breaks during the day. 

Alfie was babbling away and slapping the tray on his booster seat, eager for food. Dean watched the rest of the Littles file into the room and get situated. He squirmed shyly as he watched each new face appear. He'd been there for two weeks, but he still felt new and out of sync. He didn't even know all the names of the other nurses, techs, and Littles. He couldn't bring himself to go looking for friends or playdates. The only reason he was friends with Alfie was because the boy had quite literally crashed a therapy session he'd been having with Garth several days previous. The boy was so giggly and sweet Dean couldn't bring himself to stay shy and reserved. He didn't mind being with Alfie even if he seemed perpetually Little.

Dean went back to spying on the Littles that were seated around him. The girl with long complicated braids was sitting across from him like usual. She looked grouchy and sad and wouldn't let go of her stuffed dog. The nurse that had brought her to the dining room was holding her hand still and talking quietly. Dean felt bad. She looked like she was having rough morning. The boy was thick glasses and freckles was also back in his usual place. He must have been Bigger than usual because he wasn't sitting in his booster seat like he usually was. Instead, he was sitting upright with no help. He looked Big and very serious. A nurse wheeled a very small Little up to the table and situated the boy in a Booster Seat. Dean winced. The boy was so Little. Could he even eat? It wasn't uncommon for some Littles to skip the dining room altogether if they were Little enough to take bottles. They would only come if they were in a Big enough headspace to manage food. 

"Dean? p'way with me after food?" Dean smiled at Alfie. The boy had seemed to drop even younger than he'd been several minutes earlier. He only lisped and missed his "r's" when he was feeling really young.

"Yeah, we can play," Dean promised. "Have to ask Benny first, 'kay?"

"'kay, 'kay, 'kay!" Aflie chimed back. 

Several techs that worked at the Home began setting out trays of food. Several stayed to help the younger Littles eat, cutting up small bites and offering spoonfuls. Many other Littles had no problem digging right in, eating with rounded off utensils or eager fingers. Alfie dug into his food with gusto, using his fingers to messily grab for pieces of biscuit. The tech barely had time to tie a bib around his neck. 

"How you feeling today, Dean?" 

He looked up at the tech that was setting out his tray of breakfast. Linda Tran was a kind Asian woman with soft, dark eyes and a knowing smile. Dean saw her around the Home a lot. She seemed to always be doing a little bit of everything. He guessed she was more than just a normal tech. What was her official job title?

"I'm Big... I think?" Linda laughed softly and gave a nod. 

"So no bib today, I'm guessing."

Dean blushed and shook his head. 

"What about utensils?" She wiggled her fingers playfully and Dean smiled and gave a thumbs to demonstrate his prowess. Linda entrusted him with a rounded-off spork with a playful wink and stayed just long enough to ensure he could actually feed himself. Dean didn't mind her watchful eyes. He was far too busy and happy digging into his biscuits and gravy. Whoever cooked this was a true hero. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted something so good. Of course, that probably had more to do with the fact he was actually managing to eat Big food on his own now. Well, _more_ of it than he used to anyway. His stomach was still being weird about Big food and occasionally the nausea was too much. More and more though, he found that with help and a few tricks, he was re-learning how to eat on his own (no sports bottle required). His biscuits were carefully mashed up into the gravy until it resembled a a mushy but tasty "paste." It looked like baby food and the consistency matched. Still, it was darn delicious! The techs had been mushing his food up and the baby-food like texture seemed to be enough to trick his stomach into accepting "Big" food. It was working, and there was even talk of removing his feeding tube once he hit his next weight goal. 

Dean tucked into his breakfast in a sort of content bubble. He listened to the mostly-happy morning clatter of Littles around him. He made a point to avoid watching Alfie eat. The one time he'd looked up, the boy had been shoveling mushy biscuits into his mouth by the messy handful. 

Linda returned to take Dean's plate once he finished. She treated him to a proud smile when she saw almost all of the food gone. "Well done, Dean!" she praised. "Too full for the last few bites?" 

Dean nodded and patted his stomach. "Stuffed!"

Linda smiled and brought out her notebook she kept tucked in her pocket. He watched her scribble a 75% beside his name. "Any nausea?"

"Nope."

"Any problems using your spork?"

"Nope." 

Linda gave a satisfied nod and slapped her notebook shut. "So the 'mushing' is definitely helping then? You do better with softer consistency?" Dean nodded, but she seemed to be talking to herself as if working through her thoughts. "We'll slowly start leaving some of your food solid--not as mushy. We'll see if your belly will start accepting Big food completely."

"What about... when I'm Little?" Dean forced himself to ask. 

"We'll adapt to whatever age you seem to be in, just like we have been. We'll do bottles or we'll stick with soft foods if you're feeling a little younger," Linda assured him. Dean nodded. He'd been Little a few times over the past weeks but not during a meal. He wasn't sure how he'd do eating with a group when Little. He hoped he wouldn't be as messy and wild as Alfie was with his food. How embarrassing would that be!

"All finished, De?" Benny was back, eye twinkling. Dean abruptly realized he'd been sucking absently at his spork. Crap! Was he dropping?

"Dean did an awesome job with his breakfast. 75% all finished!" Linda announced. Dean blushed but smiled at the ridiculous amount of praise lavished on him. It didn't matter if it was Benny, Garth, or Linda, everyone was always so quick to praise and make a big deal out of even his smallest accomplishments. 

"Would you like to update your star chart?" Benny offered. Dean was thoughtful. All the Littles had special charts in the activity room that outlined their whole day--meals, therapy, appointments, and even little things like baths or getting dressed. Benny had explained that every time he did something especially well or managed something hard, he could put a star sticker on his chart. Dean had been Big and refused the chart without a backwards glance the first time Benny brought it out. However, Dean had Dropped a few times into a Toddler-like mindset since then. His chart had stickers on it now. Dean didn't remember doing it, but his Little-self was definitely making use of the chart. Crap. He sighed and gave a stilted nod. If his Little-self liked the chart that much, it only seemed right that he do the stickers. 

Linda gave a wave and Dean got up to follow Benny to the activity room. Alfie let out an impatient squeal and raised a sticky, gravy-coated hand. 

Benny anticipated the messy handful of gravy and stopped to wipe it off and remove the gravy-swamped tray in front of Alfie before he could fling anything. 

"Dean, stay?"

"I gotta go now, buddy. I'll see you later okay?" 

Alfie's eyes began to well-up with tears at the loss of his friend, but his nurse Anna was at his side in a flash, hushing him and distracting him with an impressive toy ring of plastic kitties and bells. Alfie took the bait and began playing while she started to clean him up.

Dean made his escape with Benny. They made a quick pit-stop at the activity room and Dean found himself taking a ridiculously long time to pick out a colored star sticker. He wanted to pick one his Little-self would like if he Dropped and saw it later. Benny waited patiently. He finally picked a yellow and green polka dot star and stuck it by "meal." He couldn't deny the warm burst of pride. He knew Cas would be happy to see him eating without getting sick. Did Cas know he was doing better? Did he get phone calls from Missouri about him?

"How about a bathroom break real quick, Cher?" Benny suddenly offered, subtly checking his wrist watch. 

Dean was suddenly aware of his bladder. He gave a jerky nod and rushed over to the bathroom connected to the activity room. Benny was right behind him in case he needed help.

_Crap! Crap! Crap!_

Dean knew he hadn't made it even before he managed to get his pants down.

He swallowed really hard past the rising lump. He jammed a hand against his eye as if he could force the rising tears back inside.

"Hey, now, Cher. It's okay. Let's get you sitting down on the toilet so you can finish. It was only a very small accident. We still caught it early." Benny's voice was so kind. Dean sniffled wetly. The man's assurance was enough to stave off a full-blown meltdown. He was already reaching for fresh supplies to get Dean cleaned up and changed. Dean sniffled again and gave a nod. He finished his business and waited for Benny help.

* * *

"No Mr. Fizzles today? Aw rats!"

Dean smirked at Garth's mock disappointment as the therapist made a show of tucking the puppet away. It was no secret the therapist probably liked the silly sock puppet more than Dean actually did. Accept for when he was Little apparently. 

"You could just use him all the time," Dean pointed out. "It's not like I have to be Little." 

Garth gave a snort. "Yeah, and watch you spend the whole time rolling your eyes at me and my little buddy?"

"That just sounded... weird," Dean muttered with a cringe. Garth chuckled to himself and crossed his legs. Somehow he managed to tuck his slim frame neatly into his desk chair. "Want to go over your schedule for the rest of the day first?"

Dean slouched in his chair. He wasn't a fan of his daily therapy appointments. 

"Sure, why not."

"After your appointment with me, you have the option of taking an hour nap or going to the activity room for play therapy." Garth paused and let Dean have a moment to decide. 

"Big or Little?"

"What would you like it to be, Dean?" Garth asked carefully.

Dean slouched deeper. "Don't care. Don't want it to be weird."

"Does Benny ever make it weird? Or Anna?"

Dean shook his head reluctantly, but didn't feel much better. "What happens after I pick one of those things?"

"You have physical therapy today for your balance and sensory perception. Remember the thing you did last time with the foam blocks and the sensory table? I think I heard Ash talking about some fun stuff he came up with for your balance. He was pretty stoked--promised you'd like it."

Dean was curious. He'd met Ash exactly once before, but he'd had a pretty good time. Ash was cool and seemed fun. "What's he gonna do?" Dean pressed, trying not to let his interest show. Garth smirked and tapped his nose. 

"Ash swore me to secrecy. You'll like it, though!" Dean narrowed his eyes. He didn't like secrets. 

"Okey dokey, let's pick what you'll do before then. Nap or activity room?" And just like that, Garth slipped back into therapist mode. Dean bit his lip a little too hard and hoped Garth wouldn't notice. 

"Nap," he finally decided. 

"I'm going to have you try and Drop for the nap then," Garth explained, his voice gentle. "I think you could use it today. You were Big almost all of yesterday and the day before. We haven't done a planned Drop since you arrived. I wanted you to have some time to adjust and just do your thing, but I think you're ready to try a schedule. We'll start making plans every day for Big and Little time."

Dean huffed. He'd been afraid of this. 

"Do I have to?"

"Benny will be there to help you settle in for the nap. No one will force you. No drugs. I want you to just try and relax and see if you can slip Down for a bit. If you can't, no worries. It'll still be some good rest for you." 

Dean nodded shakily. He trusted Garth, but the idea of a planned Drop still sounded anxiety-provoking. He'd never tried to control his head space. Not without his dad's drugs anyway. He was pretty sure that didn't count. 

"Now, I have some projects I thought we could try." Dean knew Garth was purposely changing the subject. He didn't want him stressing. When he returned to his desk he was carrying several sheets of paper and a box of crayons. "Since this will be one of our first official appointments with you Big, I want to do some baseline stuff." Garth pointed to one of the sheets. It was the outline of a man. No features, no clothes, no real details of any kind. Just a plain, black outline with empty space inside. Garth set out three sheets in front of Dean. "I know this is pretty simplistic, but stick with me here. I want you to color each one differently. The first one will represent before you met Castiel--when you were still technically unclassified. The next will be your time with Cas. The third will be your time here with us so far."

"I-I'm not good at drawing," Dean argued. The empty white paper was strangely overwhelming. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down to color or draw. Art in general had always just been a pointless waste of time. He couldn't imagine what his dad would say if he could see him now. He'd probably laugh. 

_No time for day-dreamin', son. Drift off and you'll get yourself shot--or worse. You keep track of your brain. I don't want to see no babying-around. No time for that here!_

"Dean? Dean?"

Dean jerked up, blinking hard. Garth was leaning forward, eyes soft and worried. His brow was furrowed slightly. "Are you with me, Dean?"

Dean nodded jerkily. 

"Can you tell me four things you can see right now?"

Dean inhaled shakily and forced himself to look around the cluttered office. He'd done this once before with Garth. He was familiar with the grounding technique. He didn't know if it actually helped, but he knew it took his mind off the immediate panic of the moment. 

"Shelf, toys, aquarium, crayons."

"Great job! Now four things you can hear?"

Dean's head hurt. This part was always harder. His pulse was pounding in his head like a drum making it hard to hear. 

"Fan, people talking outside...."

"Good, keep going," Garth encouraged. 

"Aquarium bubbles..." Dean rubbed his head. He was glad he'd chosen to take a nap next. He'd need it. "Clock," he finally finished. 

Garth smiled and nodded approvingly. "That was great, Dean. I know it's hard to do this sometimes." He paused. "Was there something I said that triggered the flashback? I'd like to know so I don't accidentally say it again." Dean didn't want to talk about this. Garth was trying to be kind, though. He may be pushy sometimes but it was never in a mean or cruel way. 

"No, you didn't say anything bad. I just... sometimes I hear my Dad's voice. s'like he'd whispering in my ear, reminding me about things. Telling me to grow up."

"That must feel scary."

Dean looked away. "He's not wrong though. I mean... He was just trying to keep me safe. Couldn't be Little then. Wasn't safe."

"Does it feel safe now?"

Did Dean feel safe? He was stuck in a brand new place with people that were still relative strangers to him. Dean sat and contemplated, listening to Garth's aquarium bubble softly in the corner. He was clean, dressed in new clothes, had a full belly, toys, people that gave him star stickers and helped him with practically everything. 

"Yes," he finally admitted. "I guess so."

Garth smiled and nodded to the papers. "Having to draw seemed like it made you feel nervous--scary feelings. I want you to do whatever feels easiest. I'm no artist either. I drew a stick-man the other day and the Little I was with started laughing their face off. It was pretty darn hurtful, dude!" Dean smirked at the mental image. "There's no right or wrong way to do this project," Garth continued. "You can use plain colors, shapes, patterns. Anything really. I want you to try and represent how you may have been thinking or feeling on each of these three papers. What emotions you felt the strongest. Make sense?"

Dean nodded and regarded his box of crayons with a critical eye. This project was so ridiculously simple. It was just coloring. It was for kids! He was Big right now. He could do this!

"I'm going to give you some time to think and work on this. I need to feed Oscar and Otis. I'll check in with Benny about your nap choice and when I come back we can talk a little about your pictures. Sound good?" 

Dean nodded and reached for the crayons. He pulled the first picture closer and stared down at the ominous white paper. It was so empty. He had to fill all of this?!

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Garth stand up and make his way to the fish tank. He was puttering around, talking to his enormous goldfish softly and searching for his jar of fish food. Dean smirked at the sight and tried to steel himself for the enormity of the project before him. He picked up a black crayon and began to work. 

* * *

Garth took his time walking down the hallway in search of his favorite nurse. He had about 50 more minutes scheduled with Dean, but he was thinking they'd run over time a little. He wanted to give him plenty of time to talk if he needed to. The way his eyes went wide and nervous like a spooked deer was a good indication he had a lot of emotions to let out on those coloring sheets. There was no telling what Garth would come back to. 

"Benny! my man!" 

The nurse looked up at Garth with tired but kind eyes. 

"Bro," he returned with a light fist bump. "How's Dean? Still on the clock with you?"

"Yep, I left him with some activity sheets to work on. I'm giving him some time then I'll be back to review them with him. He decided to take a nap after he's done with me then he'll head over to PT with Ash before lunch."

Garth frowned at the computer screen Benny was working on and craned his neck for a better view. He'd been typing up notes on Dean's chart. "There some updates I should know about?" he pressed. 

Benny heaved a deep, weary sigh. "I was going to mention it later during end of shift report, but since you're here and have some time, we might as well do it now." Benny pulled up a new spread sheet on the computer. He pointed to the left-hand column: "Continence."

"Since Dean's arrived, his control over his bladder and bowels is goin' to pot. When he was with Cas, he was havin' occasional accidents when Big--mostly just durin' naps. If he Dropped suddenly, that usually meant an accident too, but that's to be expected. However, since comin' here, he's wetting himself throughout the day and every night. Big or Little. When he's Big, I watch him to see if he's sensin' any signals that he needs to go, but he doesn't seem to notice the urge until I either point out it's time for a bathroom break or he feels himself start to go."

"Are we sure this isn't still him just trying to adjust to such a new, unfamiliar environment? Littles tend to regress slightly during sudden or major changes. You know this. I've even mentioned this to Dean already."

"I was hoping it was the case, but the accidents are increasing, not decreasing. It's upsettin' him that he has to wear protection 24/7 now. I'm having him wear diapers, because he's going too much for a pull-up."

"Could this be a physical problem--UTI?"

"It's bowels and bladder, though, not just urinating. When I examined him the other day, there was no sign of any infection either."

Garth went quiet. Dean didn't deserve this loss of independence. He shouldn't have to have a portion of his Big headspace stripped away completely. He had no idea how he was supposed to tell Dean there was a chance he might never regain this portion of control. 

"I'll try and talk to him about how he's feeling about this. It's gotta be frustrating and scary as hell." Garth sighed. "I don't want to tell him that this is a permanent thing. Not yet."

"Garth, you've read the same studies and textbooks I have."

"Of course I have the same suspicions you do." Garth muttered. He didn't want to talk about this. He was a healthcare professional, but he still didn't want to talk about this. Didn't want to think about the horrible idea of someone hurting Dean that badly.

"80% of Littles that experience on-going, life-impacting incontinence during their Big Head Space have experienced previous and significant episodes of sexual abuse," Benny quoted in a soft apology.

"I really wish you didn't say it out loud."

"Garth..."

"I know, I know."

"What are we going to do about this?"

"Right now? I'm going to go back in my office and look at the pictures he's colored and try to decipher a fraction of the hurt and emotions that are all bottled up inside him. Medically, he's stable according to both Cas and you. He's not in immediate danger, so I'm not going to force him to talk about the worst days of his life all at once."

Benny breathed a sigh and rubbed his hand over his 5 o'clock shadow that was already forming. It was such a horrible, long freaking day. "Sounds good. I'll be by to get him for his nap. We're going try and see if he can Drop right?"

"Yep, nothing extreme. I told him I just want him to focus on relaxing and see if he can Drop on his own. Feel free to help him along if he'll let you."

"Swaddling, rocking, bottle?"

"Roger that."

Garth made his way back down the hallway. His brain had an uncomfortable buzzing sensation like a swarm of flies at managed to crawl inside. The news from Benny hadn't been completely unexpected. He'd worked with badly abused Littles before and was no stranger to sexual abuse. It made his skin crawl and his gut churn. He hated it with every fiber of his being. He'd suspected it was buried in Dean's complicated history, but now that it was creeping out into the open, he wasn't sure whether he had the ammunition ready to help that aspect of Dean's trauma. There was already so much else to address. 

Well, one crisis at a time.

He gave his office door a knock and poked his head inside. Dean was hunched over the desk, coloring feverishly. He looked up when Garth returned and gave a shy not-smile. "I-I guess I'm done?"

"There's no rush," Garth assured. "We have plenty of time."

"No, I think I'm done. I mean, the pages are full?"

Garth blinked. Dean held up one of the sheets and the entire outline of the man was completely filled in. Colors exploded on the white paper like fireworks. Dean had actually done the project! Garth had had his doubts in the beginning whether Dean would respond to this form of therapy, but now there was no doubt in his mind that he was headed in the right direction. 

"Okay, Dean, how about we talk just a little about the colors you chose? We don't have to go super detailed and you don't have to share anything that makes you feel too _'ick,'_ " he explained taking his seat. "Can you choose one picture to start?"

Dean paused in thought for several moments before sliding the second picture across the desk. Garth smiled slightly. It was the picture that represented Dean's time under Castiel's care. 

Dean had seemed especially careful with this picture. No scribbles or wrinkles in the paper. No angry lines. He'd chosen a dark gray along the head and lower body--tangles spirals that filled the space tightly. The chest was pink with yellow and the hands were blue and purple. 

"Can you tell me about the gray first?"

"Was super sick for a lot of the time with Cas. My body was all messed up--the infection and stuff." Dean was looking at his hands, eyes fixed and shy. Garth nodded encouragingly. "I just felt really confused a lot of the time. My headspace was all weird and I couldn't' keep track of time very well."

"The spirals make a lot of sense," Garth agreed pointing to the patterns. "Good representation."

"Cas was really... really great though. I mean, he took care of me all the time. He looked tired--like he wasn't sleeping sometimes. He spent a lot of time with me."

"Did you like that?"

"Yeah," Dean murmured, shoulders hunching. "Cas was really nice."

"How about the pink, Dean? I see a lot of it around the top and middle of your man."

"Dunno why I chose pink--kinda girly." Dean hesitated and frowned as if remembering something unpleasant. "I like pink though. Not like to be weird. It's just seems soft. Safe I guess." Dean huffed impatiently. "Sorry, don't know how much sense I'm making."

"I think that it makes sense. Colors give us all different feelings."

"I thought pink made sense cause Cas made me feel safe like we were talking about earlier. He would check on me and just sit and watch. He'd hold me if I started crying and just hug me the whole time." 

Dean sniffled but Garth acted like he didn't notice. He couldn't risk embarrassing Dean. Not when the boy was on such a roll!

"So the chest and upper arms are pink--it reminds you of how Cas would hold you and keep you safe?"

Dean nodded, rubbing at his eyes. Garth wasn't sure whether it was the budding tears or fatigue kicking in. Either way, Dean would be ready for that nap soon. 

"How about the yellow?"

"Happy I guess." Dean smiled quietly. It wasn't much more than a faint twitch of his lip. Like he was afraid to smile. "I liked it with Cas. He'd play and sometime Charlie too. They'd bring me these toys and watch me. Cas would make this growly voice sometimes and sing. Charlie was really funny. She had all these stupid nicknames for me."

"Do you have a favorite memory of them playing with you?"

Dean hesitated and smiled--this time for real. An entire smile that actually reached up to his eyes. 

"I liked it when they'd give me a bath. I know it sounds weird, but that was the best. They'd sit and play and do ridiculous things. I can't even remember all of it because I was Little so much, but it was really nice. I... I miss it. Is that weird?"

"No, Dean, not at all. You should treasure that memory. I know Cas and Charlie must." Garth smiled and hesitated. He could see the fatigue in Dean's face growing. He was getting rung out. There was no way they'd touch the other pictures today. Not when they were even more emotionally charged. 

"Okay, Dean. Let's do the last few colors then I'll call it for the day. You've really done some awesome work. I'm super proud of you." 

Dean gave a half-shrug like he didn't quite believe Garth's praise. 

"The blue hand?"

"Mopsy," Dean replied simply. "It was the blue bunny Cas gave me when I first showed up. He had to use it to bribe me into sitting still so he could fix me. When I was Little, I wouldn't let go of it. Ever."

What about now? You still have it."

"It's dumb. I mean, I'm a grown-ass man. I've literally been in fights and broken bones--had my face mashed-in. That bunny is still the best thing in the world. I shouldn't like a toy that much."

"As far as I'm concerned, favorite toys don't come with an age-limit," Garth retorted with a raised eyebrow. "You shouldn't feel guilty about your bunny?"

"I should if I'm caring it around when I'm Big. I shouldn't need it like I do."

"What about your other hand--the purple one."

"Squeak, the mouse blanket Cas gave me. It's purple so I picked purple."

"Ahhh, I remember that blanket. That's honestly a cool blanket." Garth paused and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Do you feel guilty about the blanket too?"

Dean squirmed noticeably. "I want to carry it around just like Mopsy. I have to tell myself not to every morning when I wake up Big."

"Why not let yourself. Just once, carry one or both of them down with you."

"When I'm Little?"

"Either way. If you're Big, it's just as okay."

"I shouldn't need them though. I shouldn't feel like they're keeping me from flying apart like a ticking bomb."

Garth tapped his nose. "What would you tell someone if they were scared?"

"Scared?"

"Yeah, they were in a brand new place, new people. They were scared and maybe feeling a little lost."

"Dunno," Dean murmured. "Maybe they should just leave."

"But they can't that very minute. They have to be there. As new and scary as the place is, there's one person there they recognize. It's a safe person that will help them. Hold there hand; hug them."

Dean went quiet. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he recognized the implication behind Garth's example. 

"The next time you're scared, I want you to let yourself get some comfort. If Mopsy or Squeak or Benny or someone else helps you feel safe, I want you to feel like you can get that help from them."

Dean stayed quiet. He looked thoughtful and uncomfortable. "Do other Littles here use their toys even when they're Big?" he finally asked. 

"Definitely." 

* * *

Dean stared hard at his bed and then back at Benny. "What if I can't Drop?"

"Like Garth said, if you don't Drop then that's okay. This is just about you getting some time to relax and rest."

Dean nodded pensively and took a seat on the edge of his bed. The side rails were still tucked down. "Dean, I'm going to treat you like you've already Dropped," Benny explained carefully. "Not to embarrass you or pressure you. I want to help you feel a little younger than maybe you do right now. Sorta like pretending. It might help your mind relax enough to Drop slowly and gently. 

"I... I have to act Little?"

"Not necessarily. You can go along with how I'm treating you if you'd like. It will feel odd, but I'm going to do everything I can to make this comfortable for you." Benny's eyes were warm and trusting. Dean felt itchy and restless. He was tired from his therapy session with Garth and his emotions felt knotted-up and snarled. He wanted to sleep and forget. Benny's plan felt weird, but he couldn't deny it somehow sounded good. Like the pink on his coloring sheet. Safe and gentle. He nodded shyly, not quite able to meet the man's eyes. 

Benny nodded in return and got to work. "Okay, Cher. Let's get you changed into something nice and soft." He led Dean over to the changing table and laid him down, rubbing his forehead with a large warm hand. Dean felt limp and small as Benny threaded his arms and legs out of the proper holes of his shirt and pants. The sleep shirt was one of his favorites. It was the bumble bee one Cas had given him long ago. Benny was humming something soft and gentle as he went to work ridding Dean of the soggy, cold diaper. Dean wanted to cry or maybe hit something. He hadn't even felt himself go but it was obvious how big of an accident he'd had. If he'd been in a pull-up the thing would have burst. 

"Now, baby, it's okay. Accidents happen and I'm here to help." Benny was rubbing his belly, eyes crinkled with concern. "Alright, then. Let's get you nice and clean. No more rashes."

The new diaper felt good and Dean huffed with relief when his sweat pants were on and Benny was carrying him over to his bed. Instead of tucking him in, the nurse began swaddling him tightly in one of his blankets, tucking his hands and arms just so. It didn't feel constricting somehow. It was warm and secure. Like a hug almost. 

Benny carried him over to the rocking chair in the corner and situated Dean on his lap as he began to rock. Dean's ear was pressed firm to Benny broad chest. He felt the vibration of Benny's hum just like when Cas had hummed to him. He found himself cuddling closer. A bottle nipple was suddenly pressing to Dean's lips and he jerked a little in surprise. 

"Shsh, honey. This is just like your usual bottles. We'll get your belly all warm and full. Let's just try it. That's it, sweetie." The nipple sat securely on Dean's tongue and he gave a tentative suck. He'd never taken a bottle when he wasn't either fully Little or in-betweening. "Shsh, little 'un. That's right. You'll feel better with something in your belly. Get some meat on you."

Dean suckled and swallowed the warm, sweetened milk. He tasted chocolate and cinnamon. He suckled harder and leaned into Benny's arm. Garth's question from earlier kept replaying in his mind. Did he feel safe?

Benny was singing something. It wasn't English. Dean guessed French. The song soothed his raw nerves just like the bottle. His eyes felt heavy and his muscles seemed to relax all at the same time. Benny smiled down at him and stroked his hair. Dean closed his eyes. 

He felt himself being lowered down and he gave a little jerk. The bottle was gone and the rocking had stopped. 

"Shsh, honey, it's okay. Let's get you into bed." Dean looked up blearily. The Big Man was smiling. He tucked the blanket up around him and pressed something in his mouth. Dean suckled and let his eyes droop as he watched his paci bob in his mouth. There was a soft click and Dean eyed the tall rails surrounding him. The Big man reached up and Dean's bunnies began to spin slowly above him as the music started. 

"Here's Mopsy and Squeak." Dean snuggled closer. He'd missed Mospy. His arms were still tucked away but the Big Man put them right next to him. Mopsy was soft against his cheek. 

"Sleep now, sweetie. You're nice and Little. Enjoy your nap, hon. I'll be back to check on you."

The lights went dim and Dean sighed. He tucked his face into Mopsy's ear and let sleep steal him away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wynneforthewin  
> I'm now on tumblr! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tracks down victims with links to Dean's troubled past, Sam threatens to go rogue, and Dean muddles his way through his first physical therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Guys! Guys! 500 kudos?! No way! Thank you all so much for following this story and especially giving feedback into what you enjoy. <3 I'm majorly behind on my comment responses, but I *will* get to them, I promise ;)
> 
> This chapter has a lot of moving parts and felt very complicated to write. I'd appreciate it if you dropped a comment on how it felt to you. It took me a long time--hence the long wait between updates.
> 
> CW: Please don't hate Sammy--he's not trying to be the bad guy. He just misses Dean and he's scared :( Warning for discussions of internalized ableism (Dean's perspective), and unintentional, minor self-harm. Non-explicit discussion of death (OC character); discussion of psychological trauma relating to grief. It's a heavy chapter, but there's still fluff.

Castiel threw back a mouthful of cold, stale coffee and attempted to get his crap together. The operative word being "attempted." The half dozen manila folders on his desk stared back at him dolefully. They were miniature puzzle pieces to a frighteningly large picture Cas wasn't sure he wanted to see. At the center of that mental picture was Dean. His past. His secrets. His pain. The trunk of contraband drugs and Little suppressants. If Cas was putting this puzzle together correctly, the implication were going to be huge. 

Jeanine walked into his office without knocking. Her face was carefully ironed free of emotion. She couldn't hide the heat simmering in her eyes. 

"Did I understand your message correctly?"

Somehow it didn't feel like a question despite the bland question mark at the end. Castiel winced. "You got it?"

"You've had 6 Littles diagnosed with in-betweening this past week? You told me before this was a rare condition."

"It is. With the exception of trauma and abuse, in-betweening is a rare diagnosis. With one exception--" Castiel nodded to the files with visible anticipation. He fanned them out like a deck of cards. 

Jeanine leaned forward slightly, perfectly manicured nails resting on her purse. "Drug use--in this case little suppressants," Castiel finished. He gave a folder a sharp rap with his knuckles. All six of these patients have suspected or proven drug abuse. Little suppressants."

Castiel took a seat across from Jeanine and continued, his voice gaining more force with every word. "With Dean, his strong history of drug abuse fueled by his father's hostile treatment is largely responsible for his fragile headspaces. He was on Little suppressants so frequently to mask his Little space, he developed in-betweening as a maladjusted coping mechanism. His body was trying to give him a fraction of what he needed physiologically to survive. I would have to analyze the specific drugs Dean was on for their full chemical structure, but I believe these specific ones may have had a larger role in his damaged headspaces. They may be a completely new formula not commonly seen. Brand new to the illegal market and certainly nothing the FDA would ever approve."

"And you feel these other 6 Littles you diagnosed may have taken the same substances Dean may have?"

"I spoke to all of the caregivers personally during the appointments and afterwards as a follow-up. Several admitted there was a definite, high-risk chance their Littles may have had access to drugs--parties, unaccounted-for time, drastic changes in behavior. Not all of the Littles come from troubled backgrounds, but several are definitely at risk for secret drug use. One caregiver admitted her Little finally admitted a friend gave him 'special candy' while they were playing. Another snuck out while Big and attended a secret party over-night. He was very hesitant to give any details."

Jeanine was visibly clenching her jaw. "Have you run drug screenings on any of these Littles?"

"Yes, it was the first test I ran. Unfortunately, all but one test came back negative. I'm afraid the drugs may have had enough time to metabolize out of the other 5 Little's systems. The in-betweening is still there, but the drugs themselves are gone. The positive test result matched Dean's, though. I recognize enough of the chemical formula to match it to his even if I don't have a complete understanding of it yet. This was the Little that attended the party. He was really what gave me this theory in the first place. I think someone is still providing these Little suppressants--the same people Dean was involved with. They haven't stopped and the danger is increasing."

"Are you able to speak with this particular Little again? He and his caregiver could serve as potential witnesses if this goes to court."

Castiel frowned in concern. He had a vivid mental image of Jeanine interrogating the Little with a bright light and poorly-masked threats." 

"I would just like to speak to him," Jeanine admitted, her voice surprisingly soft. She seemed to sense Castiel's concern. "Dr. Novak, the amount of drugs Dean was found with has already given the inclination that there is a much bigger drug operation in place--trafficking and the like. Your theory of could further substantiate our case. Dean's father or whomever originally owned the seized drugs may still be operating. They need to be identified and prosecuted, especially if they are targeting additional Littles. No one else should have to suffer like Dean."

"If I call the caregiver and Little..." Cas's voice trailed off. He unconsciously arched an eyebrow in warning.

"I won't frighten them! You have my word. I can be... decent." Jeanine bristled, sharp chin jutting. Castiel smiled ruefully and gave a nod as he reached for his phone. 

* * *

Dean rubbed at his eyes and stifled a yawn. Benny paused beside him and smiled at the sight. "Still sleepy, Cher? Dean nodded, his thumb creeping toward his mouth. He gave a hard suck only to stop and yank it free several moments later when he realized what he was doing. Benny didn't seem to notice. He lead Dean down the hallway to the play therapy room. Dean trailed back hesitantly. His brain was still fuzzy from his nap and Drop. He wasn't sure if he was just sleepy or his headspace was still lagging. 

"Let's get you through physical therapy then lunchtime," Benny reminded him. "I need you to stay Big if you can, okay? It's important we follow Garth's schedule as closely as we can."

"If... if I can't?" Dean froze outside the therapy room. He didn't want to disappoint Benny or Garth. If he couldn't control his headspaces, would they give up and make him take meds like Ellen had tried? Was this test? If he couldn't stay Big for therapy would they make him take a Little suppressant to keep him old and functioning?

"Cher, hey now," Benny soothed. A warm, paw-like hand rested on Dean's shoulder. "It looks like you're having some scary feelings. Can you tell me about them?"

"What happens if I accidentally Drop? If I can't stay Big?"

"We make sure you're safe and comfortable. You can do your PT little if you need to. Not a problem."

Dean worried his bottom lip. "I won't... won't be in trouble for not following the schedule?"

Benny gave one of his warm, knowing smiles that made Dean sigh with relief. "No, no Cher, you'll never be punished for your headspaces. You're still healing. This isn't your fault. The schedule is to help you so we'll try to follow it the best we can. It's not here to get you in trouble, though. I promise."

Dean regarded the promise thoughtfully. Benny didn't sound like he was lying. Garth wasn't the type to lie either. 

"Ready to try some PT now?" Benny smiled and extended a hand. Dean wanted to reach out and take it. It felt girly to though. If not girly, then babyish. He wasn't Little. He didn't need to hold hands. He gave Benny a small smile he really didn't feel and nodded, stepping into the new room after the nurse. He'd met Ash before, but the encounter was brief and casual. Dean had spent the time playing in the sensory bin while Ash spoke to Benny about things like proprioception and cerebellar function. Dean had been mostly Little at the time and the memory was foggy at best. Garth spoke very highly of Ash, though, and Benny seemed approving. 

"You must be Dean! Welcome to Ashland!" 

Dean startled slightly in the doorway. He found himself slipping behind Benny's broad, solid form. He peered out at the new man curiously. 

The new stranger was lounging on a large pink yoga ball at the center of the room. He bounced slightly, his shaggy dirty-blond mullet flipping every so slightly about his shoulder. He looked relaxed and leisurely as if he'd just woken from a long, enjoyable nap. 

"Dean, this is Ash. He's going to be helping you with your PT," Benny announced, helping Dean out from his hiding place. 

"Deano, would you like Benny to stick around for a bit? Just until you feel more comfortable?" 

Dean blushed warm pink at Ash's offer. Did he really look that pathetic and scared?

"I'm okay," he announced. "You can go, Benny."

The nurse smiled, eyes crinkled and wise. Dean blushed harder. As always, Benny saw right through him. Still, the nurse was far too kind and understanding to make a deal of it. He gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze and headed out the door. "I'll be around if you need anything, Dean. Ash can call me at any time." Benny held up a small pager and gave a final smile of encouragement.

"Now, Dean, ready to play?"

"Play?" Dean turned back to the new man.

"Yeah, I've got a whole list of things we can try today." Ash bounced upright from his yoga ball and motioned over to the other side of the room. "Since this is our first full session, we need to see what areas need some work. I have some fun stuff planned that can help us see where we should focus." He turned back to face Dean. "First, though, how about a chat? Good old fashioned playground meeting?"

Dean watched him take a seat on the swing set across the room. He pushed off with his feet and motioned eagerly to the swing beside him with a wink. Dean hesitantly took a seat and started himself off with a light push. He hadn't been on a swing in... man, how many years? He wasn't sure he even remembered the last time. Maybe long ago with Sam when they were kids?

"What's your favorite game? Or sport I guess?" Ash suddenly asked. 

"Didn't really have time," Dean finally answered after a long pause. 

"We have time to find out now if you'd like. This whole room is free game--toys, sports, you name it. You're free to experiment." Ash gave a slight frown and rose suddenly from his swing. Dean watched him head across the room to a set of drawers on the counter. He rooted around and returned grasping something small in his hand. "Here, Dean, have a stress squeezy."

Dean found himself holding a small cartoony ice cream sandwich. A goofy smile and eyes was painted on the front of the soft foam. His hand gave an unintentional squeeze and something pleasant hit him. It was a nice sensation. Relieving somehow. The foam regained its shape quickly.

"Have you been using a pacifier, Dean?"

Dean yanked his thumb out of his mouth in horror. He stared down at the raw, pink flesh. Subtle tooth marks were indented in his skin. His finger looked raw and he noticed the subtle throb of pain. _Crap!_ He was supposed to be Big! How long had he been sucking his thumb?

"Dean, how about you give your stress squeezy another squish?"

He obeyed, squeezing hard several times. The soft foam sprang back into shape and he gripped it harder. 

"Your thumb's looking a little angry. I want you to keep your new squeezy with you today," Ash encouraged. "If you keep it in the hand you use most to suck, it should help. You should give your thumb a break." He sounded like he spoke from experience. Dean wanted to question it, but he kept quiet and moved the toy to his left hand. His thumb was starting to really hurt now. He swallowed hard and told himself not to cry. He wasn't feeling Big enough for this. 

"Now, can I ask what you think you would like to work on today? Is there something you feel like has been especially hard. It can be anything. Balance, coordination, strength?"

Dean thought quietly. He kicked his legs out and was gratified to feel his swing go higher. 

"My balance," he finally admitted. "I can't walk too good. Fall down a lot, especially if I Drop or In-between."

Ash nodded understandingly "Yeah, balance problems suck. You're a strong dude, though--I can see it. I feel like your muscles are there, but your coordination may be the issue. We can definitely work on that," he promised. "Anything else you'd like to tackle? This is your time, dude."

Dean hesitated. Ash wasn't Benny. He wasn't Garth either. How much could he really tell him?

"Things get... overwhelming sometimes. I hate feeling so freaked out all the time," he murmured, eyes carefully fixed on his swinging feet.

"Loud sounds?

Dean shrugged. "Stuff just feels like a lot sometimes."

"More sensation-based then." Ash _hmmed_. "I have some ideas for that--ways to calm down and cope. Garth mentioned you really enjoyed the sensory table. I remember you loving it last time when we first met."

Dean blushed but nodded. He couldn't deny how cool the table was. He'd spend all day with it if Benny would let him. 

"Great! let's go ahead and check your balance out first." Ash hopped off his swing again and grinned. Dean followed suit albeit much slower and more hesitantly. He stood to his feet and waited until he was sure his legs wouldn't betray him. The rocking of the swing was relaxing in a way he hadn't expected. He wished he could have kept going. Swinging felt easier than standing somehow.

"If you start feeling too tired or freaky, we can always come back to the swings for a break." Dean blinked. Had Ash been reading his mind. "I speak from experience, Deano. When I'm feeling smashed, the swings always help me chill-ax. IT's the rocking motion--it's like crack for Littles. It's like it flips a switch in my brain." He gave a chuckle. "Ellen let me spend hours on these things when I first moved here. It was the only way she could get me to settle down enough to talk."

Pieces click clacked into place in Dean's mind. _Ash. Ellen. Moved here._

"You're... Little?"

Ash gave a rueful grin and shrugged. "As little as they come. I clock in at about 6 years when I'm Dropped. Sometimes a bit younger or older depending on my mood."

"But..." Dean's mind was spinning. "You're Little."

"Yep." Ash popped the 'p.'

"But you you work here?"

"It took a hot second, but when Ellen finally got through to me and helped me even out and balance my headspacing, her and Missouri were impressed with my experience as a physical therapist. They thought my experience with that and my own sucky personal experience with headspacing could help others Littles in my shoes."

Ash led Dean over to a long line of foam mats and patted the ground beside him. Dean sat down clumsily beside him and waited for the rest of the story. He hoped he wasn't done. It was clear there was a lot left to tell. 

"I need to assess your legs and arms. Just the strength and muscle tone you have. I want you to push and pull when I tell you okay?" 

Dean nodded. He flinched away from Ash's touch at first, but the man had started talking again. Dean's attention pulled away from the discomfort of the touch and went back to the story.

"My first caregiver was awesome." Ash's pained smile was hard to look at. Dean could almost see the memories drifting across the young man's mind.

"He took such awesome care of me that he actually managed to get me through high school and then PT school. Don't get me wrong! He made sure I Dropped and had my Little time, but he didn't let it consume me. He wanted me to have everything. He kept me on a schedule and made sure I was balanced. He was on staff at a community college and managed to convince the department to let me in their prerequisite program, my head space be damned. After that, he personally spoke to every faculty member in the PT school I liked and convinced them to let me try. I don't know what he said, but it worked. I got in. Somehow, I made it through the whole program. By the time I finished, I had about 10 letters of recommendation from my teachers. I blew their mind, I guess. No other Little had ever been accepted in their school, let alone graduated. I got a job no problem at a small clinic. Drew drove me in to work and picked me up and I was stoked. I loved my job."

"When did you come here?" Dean asked, voice apologetic. He felt bad for asking. He could feel the story going off the rails. 

"My caregiver was in a car wreck. One day, he just didn't come home and I had no idea why. I was off that day from work so I spent the whole day alone in that big house freaking out. Every hour, it just got worse. I called and called, but his phone didn't pick up. I finally got ahold of his secretary and she managed to help me track down what had happened. The police showed up at my house and took me to a stranger's house. And just like that, I was in the system. It didn't matter all the fancy schooling I had or how much money Drew had. They didn't care that I had a job. Drew didn't have any relatives and there wasn't a will. Everything was gone. I probably don't need to tell you this, but Social services and state care sucks. Capital S. There was some good people, but it's no way for a Little to live. No structure. No consistency. I had lost my entire life and no one would believe me when I told them I was a full-fledged PT. They didn't believe that I could take care of myself. or work and help other people."

"Did... did they hurt you?"

Ash cocked his head thoughtfully. He was holding Dean's left leg in his hands gently as if it was a fragile egg. "Go ahead and push against my hands."

Dean pushed. 

"Good, again."

Dean pushed back and waited impatiently for Ash's answer. 

"Everyone's disbelief in my ability and coddling broke something in me. It didn't help that I over-heard them talking about how 'abusive' Drew had been. That he should have never let me into college. That he should have protected me and kept me home. They were bad-mouthing my dead caregiver in front of me. All of that talk added up. I snapped. There's not really a better way to describe it. I stopped caring. I stopped trying. I regressed down to about 2 years old--way younger than I should have been. And then..."

"Then?"

"Well, you've heard of the terrible 2's?"

Dean frowned in confusion.

"Think of one big temper tantrum. Days on days. No stopping. No bargaining. Kicking. Screaming. Biting..." Ash spread his hands in a wide, telling gesture. "You get the idea."

Dean's eyes went wide at the implication. 

"Squeeze my hands, Dean. Let me feel that big grip I know you have." 

Dean squeezed. He felt so weak. He squeezed harder. Ash nodded approvingly. 

"Good, push out against my hands as hard as you can."

Dean barely budged Ash's strong grip. 

"Well, you can imagine how my behavior affected the caregivers I'd been assigned to. I got passed on to about three more houses and one state facility before they gave up. I was labeled aggressive, impulsive, and un-homeable. No one wanted to adopt me or even foster me. I was heading for a psychiatric facility somewhere in Tennessee when Missouri stepped in. She offered to take me in here on a trial basis. Ellen took over as my therapist. It was a power-struggle from the start, but she had a stronger will than even me. As horrible as I was, she never batted an eye. Nothing rattled her. She put me on a strict schedule and set up boundaries--rewards, punishments. Everything. She even had to use meds on me on my worst days. When she finally got through to me, Missouri said it was like she'd performed a freaking exorcism. A whole new Ash."

Dean stared hard. He was having a hard time believing the story. It had been so personal. Why had Ash even told him? There was no way Dean would have just spilled his guts to some Little he'd never met. And Ellen... Dean frowned. His memory and opinion of the therapist was anything but good. She hadn't listened to him. Had she really been there for Ash. It sounded like she had been everything he needed.

"Okey dokey, Deano, let's get you up and walking so I can watch you balance." Ash shifted mental gears so quickly, Dean felt a little dizzy. He stood shakily to his feet. Ash pointed at the wide green line painted on the foam mats where they had sat. "We're going to pretend we're on a tight rope like in the circus. I want you to walk from here to the end, toe-to heel. Stay in as straight as you can stay on that green line."

Dean nodded, nerves rattling. Why did this feel like such a huge task? He started on the green line and inched his way along it, hands outstretched. He stopped and wobbled only a few inches down the line. His foot came off the line as he struggled to right himself. 

"Dean, try and keep your eyes up. Stare straight ahead. Focus on the other side not your feet."

Dean gulped and nodded shakily. He kept creeping along the line. It felt like hours later, but he reached the other side. Ash cheered and grinned, shooting him a thumbs up. 

"Awesome job!"

"Wasn't awesome," Dean muttered, scowling. "Took freaking forever."

"It did. How about you try and beat your time? Have another go. See if you can go a bit faster."

It didn't sound like an option. Ash was giving him an assignment. Dean gritted his teeth. He didn't want to do the stupid tight-rope again! 

"One more time Dean, then we'll do something fun."

Dean turned and began inching his way back down the green line, face frozen into a dark frown. He wobbled just as much as the first time, but he didn't let himself stop. He pushed forward, muscles taut with anger over his show of weakness. It shouldn't feel this hard!

He made it to the other end and Ash whooped. "You beat your time!" he announced. "You nearly cut your time in half."

"Done?"

"Yep, we're done with this. I know you hate it, but it was helpful to see how your balance is. It's going to get better."

"What's next?"

"Next, we're going to relax. Let our senses take a vacay!"

Dean's spirit leapt when he saw Ash leading him over to the sensory table. Yes!

"Have a seat, Dean and choose your poison." He presented him with three plastic boxes of sensory toys: colorful squishy beads, smooth stones, and magnetic sand.

Dean ached. He wanted all of them! Why did he have to choose one?

"You can play with all of the buckets, but only one at a time," Ash clarified with a knowing smile. "I know, man. Decisions suck. Personally, I could never decide what I liked best. All the sensory bins are my favorite."

"I'll take the beads," Dean finally decided. Ash pushed the bin over and Dean dove in, hands eager and fingers wriggling. The cool, watery-texture soothed his raw nerves and left-over anxiety from the imaginary tight rope. 

"Here, try these," Ash suddenly offered. He passed Dean some toy tongs and several small bowls. "I want you to pick out as many different colors as you can and set them in different bowls. One color for each bowl."

What!? Dean had thought this was supposed to be a break. Relaxing? Ash was putting him to work again. 

"I bet I can pick out more orange beads than you." 

_Oh, no. It was on. Definitely on! No way Ash was faster than him!_

Dean's hand shot out with his tongs and he began fishing orange beads out of the chaotic jumble of colors. Ash had his own pair of tongs and he was hard at work, his mouth a crooked grin. Minutes flew by and all the orange beads were gone, each one carefully tucked away in the bowls.   
  


"Awesome, dude! That was _insanely_ fast."

Dean grinned, eyes flashing with challenge. "Green next?" he offered. 

"You're on!"

The process repeated until all of the beads had been neatly sorted. Dean panted slightly and set his tongs down. His hands were kinda sore. He wiggled them. His fingers were tired, but it had definitely been worth it. He was positive he'd gotten the most beads. His bowls definitely looked fuller than Ash's did. 

"That was perfect, Dean. You've got a really good handle on your fine motor skills. Good grip. Good coordination."

"Wait, that was a test?" Ash smiled ruefully. "Would you believe me if I said it was part-game, part-test?"

Dean rolled his eyes. He must have Dropped slightly during their game. He should have remembered Ash was still his physical therapist.

"I'm not trying to be a sneak. I just want this to be fun for you--Big or Little. Work is better if it feels like playing."

Dean smirked. He couldn't deny the truth of that. For a brief, luxurious few minutes while they raced through the bead sorting, he'd actually forgotten this was supposed to be a PT appointment. If just felt like playing with Sammy when they had been Little. they'd both been so competitive growing up. Everything had been a contest.

"Dean, you up for a few more activities before we finish up for the day?"

Dean nodded, his smile real enough to reach his eyes. 

* * *

"Novak, I want to see my brother."

"Sam, this really isn't a good time." Castiel was striding down the hallway to his office, Sam was hot on his heels. He'd dismissed the brother several times already, but Sam had dug in his heels and refused to leave. He'd side-stepped Sandi at the front desk and demanded to meet with Castiel. Not even Charlie had managed to diffuse him. 

"It's been two weeks since I've seen or heard from him."

"I understand, Sam. I haven't been able to visit Dean either."

"You're his doctor."

"I'm no longer his primary caregiver. He has a new doctor, nurse, and therapist overseeing his care. They are specially trained to help Littles with histories of trauma. I'm still consulting and checking in on him, but he's no longer my direct patient."

"You just up and abandoned him? He _trusted_ you!"

Castiel froze outside of his office and whirled around to face Sam. Emotion had hit him in the chest with such force his breath had been stolen away. He wanted to gasp with the pain. 

"Sam," he began carefully. Every word was careful and measured. If he didn't control each one he knew it was only a matter of time before he began shouting. "I did not abandon your brother. I ensured he got the care he needed. He is safe and doing well as we speak. The last repot I got from the director of the facility--Dean's doctor as well--was very positive. He's making progress there that he wasn't making here."

"Why can't I see him then? Why all the secrecy if he's doing so well? Because it sure as hell feels like you're hiding something. I won't let Dean just get buried in some shallow grave of red tape and politics!" Sam's voice echoed down the hallway. Castiel winced. He was positive at least several patients heard him from where they waiting in their exam rooms. 

"Sam, you're going to disturb my patients. I can talk with you about whatever you'd like, but not when I have patients to see."

"I want my brother back! You said you wanted me in his life! Why won't anyone let me see him? You don't even give me his new address."

"Sam, I'm not even allowed to see him yet! They asked me to wait to give him time to settle-in. If we pop in unexpectedly, we could undo his progress. He needs to focus on adjusting to his new environment and caregivers."

"I won't let him get swept under the rug and forgotten about in some filthy state nursery home. Tell me where he is or I'll find him myself. I'll tell everyone everything I can find. All the evidence. All the suspicions. I'll tell everyone that you helped the police kidnap my brother. That you're holding him responsible for the drugs."

Sam..." Castiel was shaking his head, awareness dawning on him with a horrible, sickening realization. "Sam, you were the one."

"I'll make sure everyone knows that my brother--a Little that can't even stop pissing himself--is being held hostage over some stupid drugs he wasn't even responsible for!"

"You were the one that leaked Dean's location to the news."

"Better everyone knew where he was than just me. If he disappeared, I wanted a paper trail. If he vanished, everyone would look for him, not just me. You can't hide him from everyone. I won't let him go missing again!"

"Sam, what you did..." Castiel's horror grew. "If Jeanine finds out." He moistened his lips, suddenly sick to his stomach. "She'll cut you out of Dean's life faster than you can blink. She won't trust you. She'll never let you interact with him again if she sees you as a threat to his safety or her case."

Sam's rage suddenly faded into a gray cloud of shame and misery. He seemed to slump and fold in on himself. A black hole collapsing on itself.

"I... I was so afraid," he croaked. "I thought I'd never see him again. That he'd be like all those names. All those Littles that disappear. I thought it would be safer for more eyes to be on him. But then, you just moved him again. You won't tell me where he is!"

"The same people responsible for the drugs are still out there. They could come after Dean at any time. Castiel rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. The boy was a giant, but in that moment he seemed so small and defeated. Like he'd been kicked to the ground.

"I moved him to keep him safe, Sam. Please believe me when I say that Dean's safety is the most important thing to me. He deserves that. He deserves a chance to heal and start over."

Sam gave a broken-off sniffle he refused to acknowledge. He was the picture of defeat. "You gonna tell Jeanine what I did?" He wouldn't look up. 

Castiel hesitated. 

"I'm not going to give you Dean's new address. Not yet."

Sam nodded, defeated. "Least I deserve I guess." he muttered. He finally looked up. "When you see him again, will you make sure he's still safe. For me?"

* * *

Benny made his way back to the PT room, glancing at his watch. Dean's appointment was just ending. He steeled himself as he waited outside the door. There was no telling what he'd find. Ash had never contacted him during the appointment. He'd checked his pager several times, but there hadn't been a single message. He'd thought for sure Dean would struggle with the appointment. Benny had fully expected to pick Dean up early. 

He peaked inside the room and stared. Dean was on the swing set, legs kicking and face open and calm. He looked at ease and relaxed. It was a far-cry from the overstimulated meltdown he'd expected. Dean was holding something in each hand but Benny couldn't tell what they were from where he stood. He looked like he was repetitively squeezing his hands around the objects as he swung. 

"Benny boy!" Ash called. He was at the sensory table putting away plastic bins. Benny headed over with a relieved smile. Dean smiled at him from the swing but made no move to get off. Benny grinned back and shot him a proud thumbs-up. 

"Dean, I'm just going to have a quick chat with Benny real quick. You can keep swinging," Ash called over reassuringly. Dean nodded, head resting against the rope. He looked so calm. It was throwing Benny off.

"You didn't need to page me?" Benny started off disbelievingly. 

Ash grinned. "No need. Dean definitely went through some big emotions today, but he self-regulated very well. We kept busy and moving. I think it helped him to feel busy." Benny nodded his agreement. Dean was definitely a 'do-er."

"As for my assessments, his balance is rough. He didn't fall, but he's wobbly. I'm assuming you have him on fall-precautions?"

Benny nodded quickly. "Definitely!"

"Good, keep it that way. We'll get to work on more balance activities next appointment. From what I saw of his his hand-eye coordination, he's within range--no lasting effects from his Drops. His pincer grasp is fine."

"What about his proprioception? Missouri thought it might be part of how overwhelmed he gets. He gets a little dissociative sometimes when he panics."

Ash jerked a thumb at the swing set where Dean was still happily rocking.

"As you can see, Dean is a huge fan. We started with the swing and ended with it. It really helped him relax. The motion and sensory feedback are definitely a good calming tool for him. Next time he's in a panic attack, try to encourage some rocking. If you hold him, rock a bit. He might even start to do it himself."

Ash hesitated. "I did notice his thumb sucking quite a bit today. Has this been on-going?"

"Relatively new. I noticed him going for his thumb several times today. I was surprised. He hasn't tried it before when he was Big."

"He's gnawing his thumb raw," Ash remarked with a wince. "You should take a look. The skin wasn't broken but it's red and the nail bed might be damaged."

Benny sighed and pinched his nose with two fingers. 

"I gave him two foam stress toys and that's been working pretty well. As long as he has one in each hand he doesn't go for his thumb. If he starts, it's usually an unconscious move he's not aware of. I re-directed his attention to the foam and he squishes it a few times until the urge fades."

"Good to know. I'll keep up with that."

"I hate to suggest this since he's technically Big, but have you considered a pacifier full time? One of those clip-on ones? He's obviously trying hard to self-soothe."

"I'd rather not. He's already lost so much of his Big autonomy. Wearing a pacifier would devastate him."

Ash nodded understandingly. "I get it, man, but his thumb is wicked angry. This might be a new coping mechanism that's trying to pop up. We should head it off before it worsens."

"I'll talk to Garth and Missouri. I'll mention the foam stress toys as an option."

Ash nodded. "Cool, keep me posted. I can always get him more fidget toys."

"Thanks, Ash. Anything else I should know?"

"I did share my story. He was so nervous in the beginning I thought it might help build some bridges. Just so you know." 

Benny smiled and gave Ash a friendly shoulder punch. "Trying to steal Gar's thunder? I'll tell him you're trying to 'therapize' his patient behind his back."

"Naw, man! You know I'm not therapist! I just thought Dean might like to know he's not the only Little that got screwed over by the world." Benny's smile turned sad. 

"He does need that. Thank you, Ash."

Ash smiled shyly. It was a shadow of his Little space that Benny recognized. Ash wasn't Little while on duty, but every no and then subtle mannerisms of his younger self still managed to peak out.

"Benny?"

The men turned to find Dean fidgeting behind them. His cheeks were pink and his eyes downcast. Benny went into nurse mode. 

"Dean, Hon? What's up?"

"Benny..." Dean breathed. "Gotta go!" he begged. His eyes were welling-up with fat tears and his had jerked down to grab at his pants in desperation. 

"Bathroom's right here." Ash jerked a thumb to the small bathroom and stepped aside as Benny helped Dean rush to the tiny room. The door clicked shut. Several minutes later, a soft miserable whine escaped. Ash winced. He heard the gentle murmuring reassurances of Benny as he went to work calming Dean. He hadn't made it in time. 

Ash steel himself and took several breaths. He did a quick assessment of his own head space. Stress and second-hand trauma sometimes acted as a trigger for his own Drops. His work being what it was, he had to be very careful and self-aware. He couldn't afford to Drop if he was with a patient. 

He finally approached the door and gave a soft knock. "Benny, what can I do?"

Dean's cries were growing louder. 

"Ash, can you track Anna down? I paged her, but I need her ASAP. She can get some supplies for us."

"Will do." 

Dean's cries became muffled. Ash pictured him sandwiching his face into Benny's massive hug. Dean had been doing so well. He'd had a great appointment. It wasn't fair that it ended so miserably for him. He should have checked with him about a bathroom break sooner.

Ash squared his shoulders. They were going to fix this.

* * *

"Okay, Cher. Let's get you cleaned up." Dean sat shivering on the closed toilet seat. He was stripped down and miserable and smelling distinctly of urine. Benny approached with a warm basin of water and washcloth. 

"Would you like to clean up or have help?"

"You do."

Benny nodded. Dean's words had become steadily quieter and more stilted. He was down to one or two word phrases. He was Dropping fast, but desperately fighting it. 

"Okay, sweetie. I'll help ya."

Benny started with Dean's tear-stained, puffy eyes. He soothed away the tears and let Dean lean into his hand for comfort. He carefully announced his next moves before touching and together they made their way down Dean's body and legs until the sour odor faded. The bird bath wasn't much and Dean would still need a full bath later that day before bed, but Benny was desperate to stave off any impending rash. Dean flinched hard when Benny wiped down his groin, but didn't say a word. Benny's gut churned with the memory of his and Garth's discussion earlier. Dean had been hurt so badly. Benny wanted to murder.

"Dean, is this okay?" Benny didn't touch him again until he saw Dean give a shaky nod. The boy's eyes were growing glassy. "Okay, hon. Almost done. I promise."

Benny helped Dean stand as he wiggled a fresh diaper up around his hips. He taped it into place and helped Dean pull on a pair of soft sweat pants. The t-shirt came next and a fresh pair of non-skid socks. Benny eyes the final item in the pile of supplies Anna had brought. A green pacifier lay waiting in an unopened package. Ash must have talked to her. Benny hesitated. Dean had lost so much. Giving him a pacifier felt like another nail in the coffin. If he used it while he was Big was that taking away from his headspace? Were they forcing him to be Little all of the time? Benny eyed Dean. The boy had a thumb jammed in his mouth and he was sucking hard, eyes drooping. Dean wasn't Big now. 

Benny ripped open the package and rinsed the pacifier off. He eased Dean's thumb out of his mouth and cringed at the raw skin. The nail had been pulled back and a ribbon of red was slowly growing. He wiggled the pacifier into Dean's lips and held it there. Dean whined in confusion but suddenly stopped when he recognized the familiar sensation on his tongue. He began suckling with a loud pop. Benny smiled and scooped him up in his arms. He left the bathroom and sighed in relief to see they were alone. He appreciated Ash's sensitivity to privacy.

Together, Benny headed upstairs with Dean. He was due for lunch, but there was no way he was Big enough to manage a highchair. He could probably eat soft finger foods or rice cereal, but Dean's meltdown in the bathroom had negated that. He wasn't going to put up with a roomful of other Littles. Nope. Time for a bottle and nap. 

Benny eased Dean into his bed and snapped the bars up for safety. He pressed Mopsy to Dean's side and prayed the boy would be satisfied with the distraction while he worked on a bottle. 

Blessedly, Dean seemed content enough with his bunny as Benny rushed through a fast bottle. He popped it in the warmer and stood over the bed petting Dean's foot as he waited. He hummed softly and stroked the leg gently. Dean yawned so big his pacifier nearly fell out. Benny grabbed the bottle and settled Dean into his lap. Within moments, Dean had latched on and was suckling contentedly, eyes hooded. Benny stared down at the sleepy green eyes. It had been a day. Dean was only up to lunchtime. They still had group activities later and dinner. Dean would need a full bath that night as well. Benny sighed. There was no telling how well Dean would handle the remainder of the day. No, he thought. First nap then later. They would deal with it however it ended up. Dean only needed to focus on the now. He would have the help he needed later when the time came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some med/psych notes...
> 
> "Proprioception" - The awareness of body position in relation to environment. It relates to how we sense our body moving and understand it's position as well as what's around us. In some mental conditions and disabilities, individuals may have difficulty interpreting this information. It can be very scary and overwhelming. It can sometimes also result from traumatic brain injuries. It can severally impact mobility and independence. People may have difficulty walking, fear of certain physical activities, mis-timing body movement, maintaining balance, or judging distance. It sometimes appears as "clumsiness" in mild cases. It ranges from mild to severe. 
> 
> In Dean's case, his dysfunction relates more to disuse (he's been sick, weak and Little an awful lot and is out of physical practice. Also, his emotional problems and panic are posing issues with his senses. He gets over-stimulated when he panics and has trouble understanding his body signals. The illegal Little suppressants he was on for so long *really* screwed him up :( His thumb sucking is a way he is unconsciously trying to self-regulate. Also, it's well-known that repetitive motions such as swinging/rocking are helpful in providing a safe and calming stimulus. 
> 
> "Cerebellar" - Refers to the bottom posterior portion of the brain (cerebellum) that controls movement and coordination. In some medical conditions, "cerebellar" symptoms may refer to speech or motor impairment (unsteadiness, poor coordination, and fine motor skill issues). Cerebellar dysfunction usually relates to traumatic brain injury or disease. It doesn't necessarily apply to Dean but Ash and Benny were referring to similar symptoms he's been watched and treated for.
> 
> Some awesome articles on sensory and motor deficits and how to help. <3
> 
> https://blog.brainbalancecenters.com/2015/08/proprioception-explained  
> https://www.merakilane.com/gross-motor-activities-for-kids/  
> https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/medicine-and-dentistry/vestibular-stimulation


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets his own intervention, Dean's circle of protection grows, and Sam strikes a deal. Also, Dean is one step closer to finding home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In tour guide voice* 
> 
> "And if you'll look to your left you'll see Cas's poor adult coping mechanisms. If you look to your right you'll see FLuFF! <3
> 
> I honestly feel bad for Dean having such a rough time in basically every chapter. I don't want to ever sugar-coat the enormity of how hard his situation is, though. In real life, nothing is every simple or easy when it comes to disability, social services, abuse, family or healing. I want to do all of that justice in this fic. However.... I'm super stoked about this chapter and hopefully you'll all enjoy. Still some sad connotations about Dean's health, but fluffier times are here. Some new, friendly faces are joining our story. :3
> 
> CW: Medical procedures that may feel uncomfortable to read. They are not nonconsensual but Dean isn't in a headspace to resist. It's a fairly brief scene.

Castiel buried his face in warm, silky-soft hair. The soft aroma of milk and baby shampoo filled his nose. He cuddled closer to the warm bundle in his arms and sighed in utter contentment as they snuggled in Dean's padded rocking chair.

A soft mewing grew and he smiled at the gentle sound. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment of peace and warmth. 

"Shsh, baby, 'm here."

Dean blinked up at him, eyes hooded and sleepy-soft. He yawned long and slow and wiggled a hand out of his swaddle. Castiel watched Dean reach up to his face curiously. He nipped the searching fingers playfully and Dean gave an amused squeak. Cas pressed a kiss to the wiggly fingers and eased them out of the chair. 

"Time for breakfast baby. Let's get you cleaned up first." Dean snuggled into Cas's neck and babbled softly to himself in baby-speak. Cas laid him down on the changing table and tickled the belly until Dean was giggling hard, legs kicking. Cas pressed a kiss to the soft tummy. It was finally filled out and healthy. No more sunken, starved skin and visible ribs. 

"Let's get my sweet munchkin clean and ready." Dean looked up at him, bright green eyes perpetually serious and pensive. Dean was still such a serious baby, always watching and studying. Cas sang his way through the diaper change and gave Dean's freshly diapered bottom a loving pat when he finished. "It's cold out there today, baby. Let's get something warm on you. No frozen babies today!" He wiggled a pair of fleecy, blue legging up Dean's legs and finished up with a pair of fuzzy socks. Dean batted at his feet eagerly, eyes wide at the kitty ears and pink noses on each foot.

"Breakfast next baby. You want a baba?"

"Baba baba," Dean mumbled back. He made grabby hands and reached up for Castiel in a silent plea to be carried. Castiel complied and the pair made their way to the kitchen. Cas pulled out a ready-made bottle from the fridge and popped in inside the bottle warmer on the counter. He rocked Dean in his arms and hummed softly as they waited. Dean was sucking his fingers noisily. With practiced ease, Castiel reached into the pacifier bucket and pulled out Dean's [elephant paci](https://www.buybuybaby.com/store/product/philips-avent-soothie-snuggle-elephant-pacifier/5284707). It was his favorite by far. Dean _hmmed_ happily as Cas wiggled the paci inside his lips. He played with the soft, plush elephant attached to the paci, eyes nearly crossing. The bottle warmer dinged and Cas grabbed it before heading over to the living room couch. He situated Dean in his arms and switched out the pacifier for the bottle. Dean snuggled deeper into his arms and suckled eagerly at his morning bottle. Cas would help him with his breakfast afterward--soft, cut up fruit and yogurt with some cut up pancakes. For now, though, he would enjoy the snuggly, contented baby in his arms. He looked down at Dean, studying the green eyes and freckles. Dean looked up at him almost unblinking with utter devotion. Cas smiled, something in his chest hitching. He felt like he would burst with the emotion that filled him. Dean was here and his. He was safe and healthy and happy. Finally,

Dean's face faded, features blurring and fading altogether. The weight in Cas's arms vanished and panic and confusion seized him. 

Castiel's eyes shot open. He was slouched face-forward on his desk, back aching and head throbbing. He rubbed at his moist, teary eyes and stared about his office. He felt sick, stomach rolling and burning. The antacids he'd been taking the past week were useless. He sat up and slouched back in his desk chair. His mind was racing, fragments of his dream drifted about his memory like wispy cobwebs. He clutched for the bits and pieces desperately. He wanted the dream. He didn't want to forget! He wanted it back.

His smart watch buzzed. He looked down and his morning alarm nagged him to get moving. His shift for the day started in thirty minutes. 

* * *

Dean sat plopped on his bottom with an array of colorful blocks strewn before him. He liked blocks. He liked the colors and feel of the smooth wood in his hands. He liked it when they stacked super duper high. He liked it even more when he crashed them down! He _hmmmed_ happily to himself, pacifier bobbing as he went to work on his latest tower. He slid a pink block on top of his orange one. It wiggled but stayed upright. He added another. He waited a half-beat before swiping his hand against the tower. the blocks toppled and he giggled fiendishly, hands clapping in glee. 

"DE, DE, De!" 

Dean perked up at the voice. He grinned behind his pacifier when he saw Kevin waddling over, arms outstretched. Miss Linda was behind him. She was smiling and happy and Dean loved her so so much! She was always nice. She gave him stickers for eating his big boy food. Sometimes she even sneaked him orange slices when he ate'd all his plate at lunch. 

"Dean, can Kevin come play with you for a bit? I brought him in with me to work and he could use a buddy while I work."

Dean waved his blocks eagerly at Kevin for a answer. Dean looked around nervously. There were a lot of other Littles around. They all had cool toys. They weren't even all babies like him. They played with Bigger toys than him. What if Kevin wanted to go play with them instead?

"DE, p'way!" Kevin cheered, plopping down beside him. He reached for the blocks eagerly and Dean grinned with relief. Together they began stacking. Dean wasn't even sad when Kevin knocked the towers over before him. 

Dean saw Miss Linda talking to Benny. They weren't smiling. Dean felt shivery and ick. 

"De, w'ed b'wock!" Kevin shoved the red block into Dean's hand. Dean shoved it back. 

"G'ween!" Kevin tried, passing another block over. 

"Staaahp!" Dean whined. He was trying to listen to Benny and Miss Linda. 

"Hey now, Munchkin." Dean looked up as Ash settled down beside him. He was sitting cross-legged and Dean could see his stripey purple socks beneath his pants. They were his silly socks! Dean pointed at them, giggling. Ash laughed and poked Dean in the belly. Dean giggled louder and curled in to protect his tickly belly. Ash wiggled in another finger and poked him again. 

"See, there's my happy buddy! We're having a good play time today aren't we? Doing so good playing with others today, Dean. Nice sharing your blocks! Good boy!"

Dean felt shy and warm. He was a good boy!

"I's good," he whispered. It came out more like a question. 

"Yes, Dean. Very good boy. This is your first day playing with everyone else in the play room. You're being so so brave."

"Good. Good. Good." Dean clutched his blocks happily as he sang and began passing them to Kevin by the fistful. He would be so good!

He heard Ash laugh and watched the man rise to his feet. He went over to Benny and Miss Linda. Dean kept an eye on him, but his blocks and Kevin kept distracting him. Kevin was making a big mess! Dean crawled closer and added his own blocks to the pile. Kevin giggled and dumped more on top. 

* * *

"This is day seven of Dean's Drop?" Linda pressed. Her mouth was a thin line of worry. She eyed her son and Dean. They were huddled conspiratorially over the growing pile of blocks giggling and mumbling to themselves in broken baby babble. They were positively giddy and as thick as thieves.

The scene was happy enough, but it couldn't quite manage to mask the elephant in the room. 

"Yep," Benny sighed. He rubbed his throbbing forehead. "Day seven. Missouri's going to make a final call today on what she wants us to do. It's getting worrisome. Dean's never been Little this long. He seems happy and comfortable, but I think we're all a little worried that this'll come back to bite us all in the ass. It's not healthy Dropping this long."

"It smacks of escapism," Garth muttered. "It's not been unheard of. There've been studies of severely abused or injured Littles that simply slip down and don't come back up again. They go into 'hiding' so to speak and stay Little because that's where they feel safest."

Linda pursed her lips. "Any thoughts on what Missouri will decide? It's frustrating!" she burst. "Dean's doing good is so many ways. He's improved! As a nutritionist, I'm cool with this. He's eating consistently and his appetite has stabilized. He's in a safe weight range finally and that horrible NG tube is gone." She hesitated. "Physically, he's doing so good, but this doesn't feel right. He needs the balance of being Big again."

Garth pulled out a fidget toy he'd swiped from Ash's stash. He gave the tiny wheel a spin and stared at the pair of Littles pensively. "I know what you mean, Lin. It's deceptive. By all accounts, he looks fine. Emotionally, he seems fairly stable too." He spun the miniature wheel harder. "It's not right though. There's only so much progress I can make with him psychological if he refuses to come back up. He has to be able to communicate his thoughts and emotions if he's going to keep healing. He can't do that with a toddler vocabulary."

"It's the incontinence," Benny growled, more to himself than the others. "He was struggling with it so badly. It was getting worse and he wasn't coping with it."

"Ben, if you're blaming yourself--"

"Gar, he was going into panic attacks every time I had to change him when he was big!"

"You know this is deeper than any of us probably know. We do our best, but Dean's damage wasn't done in a day. It won't be fixed in one either," Linda soothed. Benny squeezed the small, birdlike hand resting on his shoulder. 

"I called Cas this morning," The trio turned at the new voice. Missouri stood in the hallway wearing a wane, exhausted smile. "He's coming to visit today. He agreed to assess him and help plan the next move."

The group silently took in the news with equal parts relief and anxiety. Changes were going to have to be made. 

Garth heaved a sigh and glanced down at his vibrating watch. "Welp, time for me to wrangle my Littles. Lunch time." He strode into the group play room and began chatting with several of the older Littles, announcing the end of the group play and reminding them of lunch. Several techs and Ana arrived to collect their respective groups of Littles and help them to the dining room. Benny knelt down beside Dean. The boy was clutching two blocks in his fists and banging them together cheerfully. 

"Cher, you ready for some yummy lunch? Hungry baby?"

Dean's attention instantly swiveled to Benny's words. He gave his pacifier several eager sucks and dropped his blocks. He made grabby hands and stretched his arms up to be carried. Benny sighed and smiled at the sight. The show of trust always made his chest ache warmly. Dean was coming such a long way from the terrified, mistrustful Little that had first arrived. When Dean was Little, he was cuddly and clingy and eagerly soaked up any attention that was showered his way. What Benny wouldn't give to see Big Dean the same way. 

He scooped him up and made his way to the dining room. He situated Dean in his high chair and fastened all the necessary straps to keep him safe and stable while he ate. The tray snapped on in front of him and Dean began slapping at the yellow plastic eagerly. He gurgled behind his pacifier, eyes wide and searching for the promised food. He began whining anxiously, his pacifier bobbing frantically. 

"Hey now, easy Hon," Benny soothed, stroking Dean's soft hair. The baby leaned into his touch. "Food's comin.' I promise."

True to his word, Benny quickly portioned out a helping of mac n' cheese onto Dean's tray as soon as the plate arrived from the kitchen. Dean dove into the noodles and began helping himself to messy, poorly-coordinated bites. Benny snorted in amusement and wiped a mashed noodle off of Dean's forehead. The baby was due for a bath today anyway.

"Good boy. Eating so good!" he praised. He set a sippy cup on the tray and watched Dean clasp the chunky handles in a miniature death-grip as he struggled to bring it up to his mouth. "There we go! Good job, Hon!" Dean noisily sipped down his juice and set the cup down with a loud _thunk_. He went back to his noodles with single-minded focus. Benny watched him eat for a while longer, grinning at the sight. Dean had come so far. His cheeks were no longer sunken and the feeding tube had been removed several days previous after consistent weight gain. Dean's nausea had seemed to fade as well--when he was Little at least. Big Dean still seemed food-adverse in some ways. Benny found himself selfishly relieved for Dean's sake. If Dean was eating so much better while Little was it really a bad thing that he was staying Little for so long?

The question niggled at him uncomfortably. It felt wrong to wish Dean was trapped in a one headspace. He thought back to his conversation with Linda and Garth. Linda herself had said Dean was better off from a nutritional standpoint if he was eating consistently when Little. Dean had looked so happy and carefree playing with Kevin earlier. There was no trace of the restless misery Dean radiated when Big and suffering constant in-betweening and accidents. Benny winced and tried to push the uncomfortable thoughts away. Dean deserved to have both headspaces. 

He glanced back at Dean. The baby was currently shoving a fistful of mashed macaroni into his mouth. He looked up at Benny and grinned gummily, waving his sticky hands with glee. 

"'Roni! 'Roni!" he cheered.

* * *

Charlie knocked on Castiel's office as an afterthought. She was already halfway inside. She carried the steaming cup of mint tea over to his desk gingerly and placed it before him. Cas didn't even look up. He was typing feverishly at his laptop, piles of papers and folders strewn about the desk in haphazard piles. His cell phone was lying nearby on speakerphone. 

"Jeanine, I'm sending over the files I mentioned earlier--the physical assessments, headspace info, and toxicology."

"Perfect. I have the interviews typed and prepared. Should the case move forward as we're hoping, they will definitely be part of the deposition. It will go a long way to demonstrating the massive toll the illegal trafficking has taken--on both caregiver as well as Little. Can you meet today? I'd like to go over a few aspects in person regarding your testimony?"

"Cas?"

Charlie eased the cup of mint tea closer to Castiel. He didn't seem to notice the tea let alone her own presence. 

"I can meet around 5 if that's not too late for you. I have several more patients today and an appointment I need to keep."

"5 is perfect. I'll see you at my office."

Jeanine hung up without another word.

Castiel's flying fingers finally paused. His head sunk into his arms with a long sigh. His fingers curled into his messy, graying curls as he lay face-down on his desk. Charlie leaned over to peek at his computer screen. Charting. He'd been trying to catch up on his patient charting while having an in-depth legal phone discussion about a completely different matter. Castiel had neatly split his attention into two separate spheres. Charlie's mind was blown. 

"Cas, I have tea for you. I need you to drink it. I haven't seen you drink anything today."

Castiel remained silent and motionless. 

"Cas, drink the tea please. I have lunch for you too."

"Can't take a lunch break right now. I have three more patients to chart on."

"You need food. You didn't have breakfast and your blood sugar is probably swirling the drain."

"How did you know I didn't eat breakfast?"

Cas finally looked up from the cradle of his arms. The dark bags beneath his eyes made them appear sunken and hallow. He'd lost weight the past few weeks. Charlie would bet her brand-new set of custom, rose quartz, D 'n D dice on it.

Charlie quirked a worried, humorless smile. "You just confirmed it for me. Come on, sit up and drink."

Castiel wrinkled his nose at the tea. He sipped at it reluctantly. "What is this?"

"Decaf herbal mint."

"Decaf," Castiel muttered hatefully. 

"I'm not giving you more caffeine after watching you drink that second venti espresso earlier. Anymore caffeine and you'll go into SVT. I'm not going to be responsible for a heart arrhythmia, Cas! I'm just not."

Charlie slid a neatly wrapped sandwich across the desk with a flourish. "Italian from Sumo Subs. No mayo and extra provolone just like you like it."

Castiel eyed the sandwich longingly, but his hands were already reaching for his laptop again. Charlie pounced. 

"NOPE!" She snatched the laptop away and closed the top with a decisive click. 

"Charlie! I need to finish those charts. I have patients that need prescriptions called in today!"

"Eat and dictate. I'll type the prescriptions in for you, but the rest can weight until you've finished lunch."

"I have three more appointments today," Castiel grumbled, eyes flashing. 

"Nope. You have one appointment. The other two just called a while ago and canceled. I took the calls myself. You only have one appointment left. Eat lunch."

Castiel bit into his sandwich with a hostile chomp. He glared at Charlie. 

"When did you get so pushy?"

"Since you stopped taking care of yourself," Charlie shot back with a pained glare. She slouched in the chair across from him and made a show of yanking on her hair. "Cas, you're running yourself into an early grave. You're juggling like a million things. Your normal patients. The court case. Sam's drama. Dean. Basically everything but yourself."

"Charlie, you know I have responsibilities!"

"Only if you're still alive to do them! I found you here this morning passed-out at your desk. You fell asleep here last night."

"I was typing up the notes and reports for Jeanine. She needed them for the deposition prep."

Charlie groaned and shook her head. "Cas, you were slammed when Dean was here, but since he left--"

"That has nothing to do--"

"--You have been working yourself to the bone trying to stay so busy you don't have time to miss him."

Castiel sat stunned, blue eyes burning as he stared at her. Charlie fought back the urge to hide. She wasn't scare of Cas--no more than she would have been of an older brother. The look on his face was formidable to say the least, though. She was pretty sure she'd just crossed a line.

"Cas, I'm not trying to be the bad guy."

"She's right. That's _my_ job."

Castiel jerked up at the subtle, snark-laced voice. A stylish man lounged against the doorframe, tucking mussed sandy blond hair out of his eyes. He grinned humorlessly and shot a pair of finger-guns. "Brother dear, you are in a state."

"Gabriel," Castiel moaned. He sunk into his desk chair, palms pressing against tired, throbbing eyes. "Why."

"Why what? Why am I here? Or why did I find my baby brother spiraling into a dumpster fire? The questions are endless."

"I called him, Cas," Charlie admitted, voice painfully sheepish. "I needed reinforcements and I knew you'd never accept help."

"She's told me everything, Cassy." Gabriel's voice was surprisingly gentle as he took a seat on Castiel desk. He leaned down to look Castiel in the eyes. He pried once of Cas's hands off his eye, forcing him to look at him. "Baby bro, you've gotten yourself into a fine state. Drug trafficking and maladjusted Littles and social workers, oh my."

"Not like I was planning any of this," Castiel griped. "I'm just trying to fix this."

"I know it. I want you to. I want you to be around long enough to do that, though, so here's what's going to happen," Gabe began. "Finish your lunch and charting. See your last patient for the day and then we're going home. I'm driving you so you don't crash and die. You'll take a shower for probably the first time in days, and then you'll go to bed where you should have been in the first place."

"Can't."

"Cas," Gabe began, voice grim with warning. 

"I'm serious. I have to meet Jeanine at 5 for the case. I need to message Sam before that, too. I'm going to convince him to turn over all the evidence and testimony he has--everything he's been holding back. Jeanine needs it. hey need to find out where the drugs are coming from."

"Fine, Sam and Jeanine are your last meetings, though."

Castiel held up a finger. "I have another one. I can't skip it."

"It better be pretty heckin' important, Cassy. I'm serious. I came here to take care of you. I dropped like 5 meetings to make it here. My secretary is still fuming at me. She's sending me angry emojis every five minutes or so."

"It's for Dean." 

Gabriel cocked his head inquisitively. "Go on," he urged. "Charlie already gave me the skinny on your problem child. I want to hear the deets from you, though. He must be a pretty special kiddo."

"The director of the facility he's staying at called me this morning. He's been Little for a week now. He woke up Little one morning and hasn't come up since. She's... concerned he's _stuck_."

"What is she suggesting?"

"She was considering a Little suppressant--something to bring him back up just long enough to assess him. She's afraid there may be some underlying medical condition keeping him Little. An infection. Pain. I don't know. He can't just stay Little, though. There could be consequences."

Gabriel winced. "Guessing the drugs aren't your favorite plan?"

"I just want Dean to be safe," Castiel said with a sigh. He rubbed at his temples. "I want to go and check him out before she decides anything. I haven't seen him in weeks. He's had time to settle in to his new home. I need to make sure he's doing okay there. Physically he's healing, but mentally and emotionally, he's up in the air when he's Big. I've gotten some worried messages from his nurse and therapist. Panic attacks, worsening incontinence." Castiel stared up at his brother wild-eyed. "I don't know what to think, Gabe! He's doing better when he's Little, but worse when he's Big? I don't know how to help him."

Gabriel hummed pensively. "What are the chances I can take a look at his file?"

Cas arched an eyebrow challengingly. 

"I might have some thoughts. I'm peer-reviewing a few papers right now on complex trauma in Littles. Pretty heavy stuff. To be honest, your baby is probably the poster child on abused Littles. Let me just take a look at his papers. I've got 15 years of advanced Little psychology, trauma, and Development under my belt. I might have a few ideas."

Castiel hesitated. "It's confidential. An entire court case is being built on it. I don't have to tell you the risk if it gets out?"

Gabriel ran a finger along his lips. "My lips are sealed."

* * *

Benny gave Dean a few more pushes on the swing. He was plopped inside one of the specially-designed bucket seat for Littles that were too young to keep themselves stable and upright. Dean slouched inside, legs kicking occasionally but eyes hooded and soft with contentment. The swing was a sure-fire way of relaxing him and lulling him into a quiet and restful state. The rocking motion soothed him and seemed to ground his senses. Benny waited for the swing to slow to a sluggish crawl. Dean slouched further in his seat, muscles loose. 

Benny scooped him up and gingerly carried him to the medical suite. Dean wiggled slightly, burying his warm face into Benny neck with a soft snuffle. He _hmmed_ to himself and curled his fingers around Benny's scrub top. 

"Shsh, Cher, I got you. Everything's okay."

"Be' Be'"

"Yeah, honey, it's me, Benny. It's Be' Be.'" He felt Dean shifting slightly as he walked. He was going for his thumb! Quickly, Benny fished a fresh pacifier out of his pocket and wiggled it into Dean's mouth. His thumb was just now healing. There was no way Benny was going to let him suck it raw again. Dean latch on easily and Benny reveled in the soft suckling of the pacifier as he continued his trek down the hallway. Dean was calm and stable and that was more than fine with him. Heaven knew how long it would last. 

When the reached the medical suite, Benny snatched a blanket from the cupboard and headed to the exam bed. Dean fussed a little when Benny set him down, but the restless sniffles quickly ended when Benny got him firmly swaddled in the blanket, arms and legs tucked just right. He wiggled the pacifier and Dean went back to suckling as he lay on the table. His eyes were only cracked, but Benny knew Dean's ears were still sharp. The baby gave a little worried flinch when he heard Missouri's approaching voice in the hallway.

"Thank you for coming, Cas. I can only imagine how busy you must be."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm glad you called me. I feel better being here."

Benny didn't miss the sharp jolt that passed through Dean like a bolt of electricity. He seemed to stiffen as his eyes flew open and began racing about the room. 

"De? Cher, can you look at me?"

Dean's eyes flitted about wildly before settling on Benny. The pacifier fell from his lips and he began wiggling inside the blanket. 

"Be-Benny," he moaned. He fought an arm free of the swaddle. Benny's breath caught in his throat at the show of sudden awareness. Was Dean finally coming back up? 

"Dean, sweetie, are you Big right now?" He asked the question carefully, almost afraid of the answer. His eyes were trained on Dean. He didn't miss the bleary-eyed confusion and fatigue filling them. Dean looked like he'd just awoken from a long nap. 

"Think so?" Dean murmured. He didn't sound sure at all. He clawed his other hand free and looked around. Benny saw Dean's eyes grow wide with concern when he noticed where he was.

"Benny, sick?" he forced out. Benny frowned. Dean seemed Bigger than before, but it was clear his language was suffering. Was he having trouble speaking or was he still just gathering his wits and waking up?

"You're safe, Dean. We just want to check on you. You've been Little a long time now. Do you remember?" 

Dean didn't answer. His head was rocking from side to side, his breaths coming faster. "Benny," he whined. "Benny!" His eyes were welling with confused tears. 

The nurse sprang to action. He managed to get Dean re-swaddled and situated on his lap. He held him close and began rocking him gently. The motion seemed to help, but Dean's hysterics didn't fully dissipate. He was sobbing brokenly, eyes wide with questions he was no doubt having trouble asking. Was he still not Big enough to find the right words he needed? Where were Missouri and Cas? Benny had heard them earlier. They'd been talking nearby. He needed them. Dean needed them! Benny was just reaching for his pager to hail Missouri when he heard the voice. 

"Dean. Oh, sweetie."

The boy froze, eyes riveted on the doorway. Benny looked up and found Missouri and Castiel standing there watching. 

Dean nearly launched himself from Benny's arms in his desperation to make it to Cas. Benny narrowly managed to keep from dropping him.

Cas rushed forward, face lined with concern. He reached for Dean and held him close, rocking and soothing as the boy continued to sob out his fear and confusion. 

"How long?" Cas asked, voice clipped and low. 

"He heard your voice just a bit ago and seemed to come up. Pretty sure he's in-betweenin,'" Benny explained. "He's having trouble talkin.'"

"Dean, honey, can you look at me, please?" Cas's voice was carefully even and controlled but Benny heard the unspoken worry lacing the words. Dean wiggled inside Cas's arms. He managed to get an arm free from the swaddled blankets and reached up to grab for Cas's shirt desperately. He stared up at Cas, lip trembling. 

"Oh, shsh, sweetie. I'm sorry. I know this is scary," Cas murmured. "You're safe. Nothing bad is happening right now. We're just checking on you to make sure you're safe. You've been Little for a long time."

"Big. Now," Dean argued. Benny winced. He didn't sound Big at all. Cas wisely didn't comment on Dean's assertion. 

"I need you to trust me, right now, honey. I'm taking care of you. I'm going to lay you down, okay."

Dean sniffled wetly but allowed Cas to place him back on the exam table. Benny took his place beside Dean, ready to intervene in case Dean started to fall. He watched Cas pull out a stethoscope and warm the diaphragm. He wiggled it inside Dean's shirt and listened shrewdly. "Take some deep breaths for me, baby?" he pressed. Dean silently obeyed. His eyes were fixed on Cas. "Can I get a thermometer and pulse ox, please?" he asked. Missouri wheeled a [Dinamap](https://www.woodleyequipment.com/product/414/Dinamap-Carescape-Vital-Signs-Monitor) over and helped Castiel adjust the appropriate cords. Dean lay shivering as his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature were taken. Cas eyed the glowing numbers pensively and frowned. He eased the thermometer inside Dean's ear with a shushing murmur. 

"Dean, are you in any pain right now?" Missouri, Benny, and Cas all watched carefully for the answer. Dean gave a shake, but it didn't look like a very convincing gesture. "Are you sure, honey? Any pain at all?"

"N-No," Dean mumbled. He gave a hard, visible swallow and blinked back obvious tears. 

"Dean, I'm going to take a look at your belly. I'm just going to pull your blankie down a little bit." Dean squirmed, but lay still enough for Cas to adjust the blanket and ease up his t-shirt. Cas listened to Dean's belly for several moments before gently pressing, eyes alert to any sign of pain. "Okay, sweetheart, I need to look inside your diaper. Does it hurt when you go potty?" Dean didn't seem to notice or care that Castiel was using such Little and simplistic language. It was the best evidence so far that Dean wasn't all the way Big.

"N-No hurt," Dean stammered, eyes averted and cheeks pink. Castiel un-taped the diaper and eased the front down. He regarded the soaked diaper.

"Tell me more about the incontinence, please," he asked brusquely. Benny gave a quick, hushed run-down on Dean's accidents. Castiel nodded thoughtfully and silently accepted fresh supplies from Missouri. 

"Dean, honey, I need to take a urine sample. I'm going to make sure you don't have an infection. It might be why you've been having accidents so often lately." 

Dean looked vaguely interested and there was a faint hope in his eyes. "No more acc'dents?" he lisped. He sounded like he was begging.

"We're going to check, baby." Cas held up his supplies. "This is a catheter. I'm going to place it inside your pee pee. It won't feel good, but I'm going to be very quick and very gentle, I promise."

Dean gave a stuttering sob and squirmed at the cold sensation of cleaning solution on his skin. 

"Benny is going to help you hold still, sweetie. Just for a bit. I'm going to be very fast," Cas promised. His voice was tight with pain. Benny tucked the blanket over Dean's arms and held him still. He gritted his teeth at Dean's miserable sob as Castiel went to work. His eyes were wide and teary as he watched Cas. There was a soft trickle of urine inside the sample collection bottle. True to his word, Castiel finished the procedure in record time. He was cleaning Dean up and taping a fresh diaper in place within minutes. 

"Okay, honey, I'm all finished. I'm so sorry. I know that was scary." Castiel snapped his gloves off and snuggled Dean into his lap. He rocked him slightly and stroked his clammy forehead. Benny silently offered a fresh pacifier and Castiel took it with a grateful smile. He eased it into Dean's mouth and gave it a wiggle until Dean began suckling. 

"Dean, can you understand me?"

Dean gave a tiny nod.

"I'm going to wait for the sample I took to come back from the lab. It will show if you have an infection. Until then, I want you to rest. You're Bigger than earlier, but you're In-Betweening very badly right now. We need to get your headspace stable. Rest will help."

There was a long pause. 

"Stay?" Dean finally asked around the pacifier.

Castiel gave a smile that made Benny's chest ache. 

"Yes, sweetie. I'm going to stay with you for awhile." Castiel looked up at Missouri in silent permission and she nodded. "Do you have a rocking chair I could borrow?"

* * *

Dean pressed his ear against Castiel's chest and closed his eyes as they rocked slowly. The steady thump of Cas's heart filled his senses and the soft mint of his aftershave tickled his nose in a familiar way. Dean didn't care that he was technically Big. Well, not Little at least. He probably shouldn't be laying on another grown man in a rocking chair. He was being babyish as hell.

He. Did. Not. Care. 

Cas was here. He'd come back for him. He was worried about him and staying to make sure he was okay. Cas was here for him. 

"Benny told me you've been doing really good here," Castiel gently pressed. "You've made some friends."

Dean nodded. "Alfie and Kevin. Alfie's Little all the time."

"You've been able to play here, Dean. I'm so happy for that."

Dean quirked a smile. It felt weird talking about his Little-self. This was Cas, though. He never made things weird. 

"Garth is fun. Ash too."

"You've been eating so good, too. They took out the NG tube and everything."

Dean nodded against Cas's chest. "Good food here. Biscuits and gravy on Tuesdays."

Cas chuckled and the vibration Dean felt against his face made him smile. His words felt easier now. They were starting to come more naturally. "There's good macaroni too," he added. 

"Do you have new toys here you like?"

"Sensory table... sand 'n trucks 'n squishy beads."

"That does sound fun. Maybe you can show me when you're feeling better." Dean nodded eagerly. He like the idea of Cas being there and playing with the sensory toys with him just like Ash had. Cas would like the sand. It was warm and soft and you could build really cool castles with it. 

"Are you mad at me, Dean?" Cas suddenly asked. "Mad that I brought you here?"

Dean was quiet. Was he? He remembered being furious and betrayed when Cas first left. That was before he'd met Benny though and the others. They weren't Cas, but they were still good to him. They'd helped him.

"No, not anymore," he whispered. Cas cuddled him closer and placed a kiss on the top of Dean's head. Dean went still. Cas had never kissed him before. Hugs and cuddles, yes, but never kisses. Warmth bloomed inside of him. He pressed himself against Cas's chest and sighed into the sweet-smelling fabric. He almost hoped he had an infection. If he was really sick, maybe Cas would stay even longer. 

* * *

Sam glanced down at his phone. He re-read the text message and frowned. 

> _Sam,_
> 
> _I sent you the link to a Dropbox folder. I want you to type up your testimony. All of it--not the censored version you already shared. I want every detail about your father and what it was like to grow up with Dean. I want to hear about what you saw your Father do. Any drugs. Any crimes. How he treated Dean. All of it. I want you to tell me your best guesses of where you think your father is. Where was he the last time you were in contact?_
> 
> _Sam, I didn't turn you in to Jeanine when I found out you leaked Dean's information. I should have. I'm furious with you, and the danger you put Dean in is unforgiveable. But I know this isn't the type of person you are. You're better than this and you love Dean. I don't want to tell Jeanine what you did because I know you will immediately go to the top of her suspect list. She will never trust you again and you will never see Dean. That's not what either of us want. I will not tell Jeanine what you did but in exchange, you will share every fact, detail, and suspicion you have on your father and the drugs he made Dean take. This is the only bargain I will extend. You have until this time tomorrow. If the Dropbox folder I sent you is still blank by then, I will call Jeanine and she will take over. You will be implicated in the same crimes for which your father is being investigated. You will be guilty if you do not speak now._
> 
> _You have my number. Don't make me regret this._
> 
> _-Castiel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes:
> 
> SVT: abbreviation for Supraventricular tachycardia. It's a cardiac dysrhythmia where the heart beats *very* fast due to abnormal electrical conduction inside the heart muscle ("extra beats"). It can come on suddenly and abruptly and feels like strong palpitations. It may be triggered by medical conditions, stress, stimulants/caffeine, medicine, strong emotion, and underlying electrical defects. It may self-resolve and be fairly benign for people in good health. However, if it continues or the person is in poor health, they may show signs of shock and worsen. (Charlie is mostly kidding about Cas going into SVT. He is being way to hard on his mind and body tho... :(
> 
> Dinamap: A medical machine that can measure vital signs all on the same screen. Blood pressure, pulse, etc. It's mobile and easy to transport into patient rooms.
> 
> Catheterization: Castiel is using a "straight cath" which is a rapid and sterile way of gathering a urine sample (think "in and out"). It's uncomfortable but he's not intending to torture or embarrass Dean. He just needs to be sure he's not sick and since UTIs are common in Littles and a big explanation for some prolonged Drops (see chapter one of this fic), it's needed in Dean's care. Not-so-fun fact, UTI's are actually a huge potential cause for delirium and sudden changes in mental status in the elderly and individuals with compromised cognition (dementia, Alzheimer's, mental disabilities, etc.) When a patient develops sudden restlessness, confusion and other vague symptoms, UTIs are often what are ruled-out first. 
> 
> P.S. Dean isn't necessarily struggling with a medical condition like a UTI. It's just an early possibility Cas and the others are working on solving. His prolonged Drop and in-betweening can have other causes. What's important, though, is....
> 
> CAS IS BACK WITH HIS BABY!! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel takes charge, Cas take family medical leave, and Dean moves out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty beginning but I can guarantee you that *Everyone* has been waiting for this... :3 Hope it didn't disappoint.

Gabriel clicked through the open tabs on his computer screen. His brow wrinkled pensively as he absently reached for his venti espresso. He sipped at it and questioned his brother's life choices. 

_Cassie, what did you get yourself into?_

The photos of Dean's cigarette burns and sunken, emaciated abdomen burned Gabe's eyes. He was no stranger to Little abuse and complex trauma. It was his life's work. Papers and research experiments carried his name. He was writing the book on complex Littles and their care. This didn't change the fact that he could count on one hand how many other Little's in his practice matched Dean's level of trauma and disability. After speaking with Charlie, he knew the extent of Dean's abuse and neglect, but that had been on a purely factual level. Seeing the damage and pain was a far different experience. How could someone have done this to a Little? Gabe's jaw tightened as he scrolled through Cas's notes and records. The haggard lines and dark bags beneath his brother's eyes suddenly made far more sense. Cas had been taking on the world for Dean's sake. The self-sacrificing fool had practically sold his life in dedication of saving a Little many others would have been content to ship off to a psychiatric facility or rehab.

_Oh, Cassie..._

Gabriel clicked on the tab listing Dean's lab results. Gabriel's eyebrow shot up when he noticed the initial alcohol report in Dean's admission data. 

_Holy..._

Gabriel quirked a humorless half-smile and shook his head. Dean was obviously far different from normal Little's. Most Little's didn't even _enjoy_ the taste of alcohol. The last Little he'd spoken to at his office had accidentally gotten access to champagne at a party. The Little had gotten smashed after just a few sips. When he'd awoken later, he'd described it as "dirty, fizzy water" and vowed never to try it again.

Dean's labs and assessment info clearly showed a history of prolonged alcohol use. Gabe huffed. _Naughty baby._

As Gabriel poured through the remainder of lab values and assessment notes, a niggling idea became progressively clear. He cocked his head and performed a final chart search for good measure. 

Yep, missing. Gabriel was secretly relieved. He could work with this. If the test was missing, there was something he could still do to fix this. They still had options. He slid his cell out and began tapping out a text one-handed. His other hand was busy adding himself to Dean's care-team on his chart. He wasn't even going to ask Cassie. He was going to be part of this. No question. His brother was long over-due for some help. 

Instead of a reply text, Gabe's cell started ringing. 

"Gabe, I can't just leave him here!"

Gabe yanked the phone from his ear at the sudden exclamation. 

"Cas, slow down. What's going on?"

"The tests are coming back negative. I've checked him for everything I can think of. UTI. Any other infection. Pain. It's all coming back empty. I-I don't know how to fix this, Gabe."

"You can't figure out Dean's prolonged drop?" Gabriel pressed. He frowned at the hysterical edge cutting into his brother's voice. Cas was never panicky, never visibly stressed, and never begging for help. He was a master at internalizing his frustration. Well, he had been until Dean happened. His brother was snapping.

"He's in-betweening now. Bad. I can't figure this out. He was doing so well. When he was Little, he was doing well. Then the 7 day drop. Now this. He's not getting better. Not really. I can't just leave him here like this if he's unable to go fully Big."

Cas's voice was hollow with failure. Gabe pictured his brother slumped, eyes closed, and jaw clenched. He wasn't a failure, though! He wasn't allowed to think that he was. 

"I'm coming over, Cas. I'm gonna help you figure this out. You need to calm down, though. You can't help Dean if you're losing you're cookies." Cas made a noise of assent, but he didn't sound any calmer. "Listen, text me the number of Dean's social worker. I need to speak with her," Gabe pressed.

"I was supposed to meet with her," Cas croaked. The dejection in his voice turned several degree colder in icy misery. "I missed the meeting. I was trying to calm Dean down and I forgot to call her."

"Text me her number and I'll take of that too. I'm adding my credentials to Dean's chart. I'm on his treatment team now, capiche?"

"Gabe, I'm sorry. You're busy... too busy to be getting caught up in my crap."

"Don't finish that, Cas. No apologies. I'm on Dean's team now. Capiche?"

* * *

Dean felt fuzzy. 

He wasn't sure how else to describe it. It was like he was hearing and seeing everything around him a half-beat slower than it was actually happening. He shivered and pressed his face into Mopsy. She gave the bestest hugs! He sucked hard on his paci and cuddled closer into Cas's chest. He was rocking him slowly. The fuzzy hum in Cas's chest tickeled Dean's face. It felt good. 

He heard Be' Be' talking to Cas, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. He didn't like it. Be' Be' sounded sad and it made Dean feel _ick_ inside. Cas's voice was very quiet, but he sounded _ick_ too. 

Dean choked on the worried sob that rose in his chest. Was something bad happening? 

"Shsh, baby, it's okay. You're okay." Cas was hugging him closer. He wiggled the paci in his mouth and Dean started sucking again. "I'm gonna pick you up, sweetie. Shsh, I got you." Dean clung to him and buried his face in Cas's neck. He didn't know where they were going, but he wasn't letting Cas leave him. 

After several moments, Cas stopped walking and Dean cracked his eyes open to peeked around and see why. No! NO! They were in the Scary Room again!

"Little Bee, shsh, I'm right here." Cas's arms snuggled him close and sat down on the table. Dean whined into his shirt. He was babbling. Begging. What was happening? He didn't want any more owies!

"Aw, Cas. You weren't kidding."

Dean heard the new voice, but he didn't care. It wasn't Cas. He had Cas already. He didn't care who the new voice was. He spat his paci out and gummed at Cas's shirt. He snuffled into the warm familiar of the cologne. Cas rubbed his head, but he was still talking to the new voice. Dean whined. He wanted the new voice to go away!

"Dean, let's get you all snuggled up in a warm blankie, okay?" Dean sniffled and let Cas tuck his arms and legs into the soft warmth. He felt his eye droop as Cas pressed the paci back in his mouth. He didn't have the energy to argue. He probably wasn't Little enough for it, but he didn't care. He didn't feel Big enough to say no.

Wait, no, it wasn't his paci! Dean's eyes snapped open just in time to watch Cas pull a cotton swab from his mouth. He placed it in a plastic bottle and screw it closed. "I'm sorry, baby. Just needed some of your spit." Cas paused. "Honey, are you Big right now?"

Dean frowned and nodded. Of course he was! If he was Little, he wouldn't have been able to even understand the question. Cas offered the paci (the real one) and Dean eagerly accepted it. He gave several hard sucks and Cas just looked pained.

"Dean, this is my brother, Gabriel." Dean's eyes swiveled over to the new voice he'd heard earlier. The man was smiling, but his eyes were serious. They made Dean feel shivery and nervous inside. Why was he here? "He's a doctor like I am. He just wants to ask you a few questions. He needed a sample of your saliva for a test he's going to run. He has an idea of how to help you with the in-betweening."

Dean's interest sparked. This guy could fix him?!

"No more acc'dents?" he lisped behind his paci. Castiel just hugged him close. "We're going to figure this out, De."

"Dean, I'm gonna come sit by you, okay? You can stay right there with Cas. He's going to hold you and we're going to have a quick chat." The blond man was rolling up a stool and plopping down in front of him with a warm grin. His eyes were still serious but they didn't look so scary anymore. The bright red Hawaiian flower on his shirt hurt Dean eyes. He looked away, but the vivid colors still flashed in his vision. 

"Dean, I know the in-betweening is really hard for you. It's very scary and confusing and I know it's not been easy having to rely on other people to help you."

Dean felt his lip start to wobble so he sucked harder on his paci. He was so so tired of crying. That's all it felt like he did anymore. When would Cas get tired of his stupid sobbing? No one wanted a whiny, snotting baby.

"I help Little's who have had really scary things happen to them," Gabriel continued. He was speaking very slowly and steadily as if he wasn't sure how much Dean could understand. "Sometimes the chemicals in their brains become messy because of the bad things. It keeps them from balancing their Big and Little spaces. The chemicals bleed together in a kind of chaotic stew and so the headspaces do to." Gabriel paused. "Dean, can you understand me?"

Dean nodded. He kept half of his face pressed into Castiel's chest. He wished he could hide. 

"This is very new research and there's a lot we still don't understand. It's my job, though. There's a test I can do to see if this is what's happening to you. If it is, I can help." 

Dean was quiet. He studied the man before him. The crooked unintentional smirk and sharp eyes. He didn't look anything like Cas, but there was such a similar energy to him. Dean stayed silent and still. He felt Cas's gentle touch on his back as he rubbed him and smoothed his hair. "Dean, I really think he can help you," Cas whispered. "More than me."

Dean's head jerked up, eyes wide. "N-NO!" he wailed. "Stay. Stay wiff me!"

Castiel was still talking to him. Reassuring him that Gabriel would take good care of him probably. That wasn't what Dean wanted to hear. Cas couldn't just punt him off to another stranger. Not again. He didn't want to go.

"Daada!" Dean wailed. He pressed his snotty, tear-soaked face into the warm shirt. He clutched it desperately and babbled promises and pleas. Cas couldn't leave. He'd just gotten him back. He was supposed to stay and help him. He didn't want anyone else. 

"Please! _P'wease!_ Stay." 

There were quiet voices talking over him, but Dean was crying too hard to listen. Cas was going to leave him again.

* * *

"Well, that settles it."

"Settles what!? You made him cry!"

"No, _you_ made him cry," Gabriel corrected him with a razor-sharp eyebrow arch. "He thought you were passing him off to me and getting ready to ditch him."

Castiel's face drained of color and his eyes went wide in horrified realization. "N-No! I didn't mean that at all!" He hugged Dean closer and rocked him. He looked like he was going to be sick. The Little was sobbing brokenly and clinging to him like he was about to fade into thin air. Dean had Dropped and sobbing his heart out. 

_Dada._

The name did something funny to Castiel's chest. It felt like a wire threading in and out of his heart. The dream from that morning came back to him and guilt stung him. He'd caught himself wanting Dean for himself. He wanted to be more than just his doctor. Those desires seemed so selfish now. What right did he have to take care of Dean?

"I've got my saliva sample. I'll pull a quick finger-stick for the blood sampling then we'll be done. I've contacted Jeanine--charming lady by the way--and arranged everything."

"Arranged?" Castiel felt sucker-punched at the speed at which Gabe was taking charge. It was like he'd been planning this for weeks. 

"Yes, arranged. I've explained the circumstances. With the instability of Dean's head space, he's very very likely to go into a permanent or semi-permanent Drop if this is allowed to continue. Physically, he's recovered, but mentally and emotionally, he's at a crisis point. This has been building. If he doesn't stabilize ASAP, he could lose his entire Big headspace. Jeanine was very concerned--as she should be. If Dean goes, she'll lose her best witness for her case."

"She just let you tell her all this?" Castiel adjusted Dean's limp, wailing figure in his arms. The buzzing tingle was warning enough that they were falling asleep, but he didn't care. He tucked Dean's blankets tighter into a swaddle and the pressure seemed to help slightly. 

"I introduced myself and emailed proof of all of my credentials while we were still on the phone. She was impressed to say the least and agreed to yield to my fabulous plan. I think she knows who the true genius of the family is."

"Plan?" Castiel was dazed. What had his brother done? The world was spinning. The speed kicking up a notch every second he waited for an answer. 

"I put in for your emergency family medical leave. You'll go home with Dean and take over as his caregiver. He'll be staying with you round-the-clock. Jeanine agreed he needed a change in care and you're the perfect choice. It's clear he's bonded with you... _Dada._ If anyone can give him the stability he needs, it's you."

Castiel blushed bright red and unconsciously tucked Dean's face into his neck. He stroked his hair and hummed. Dean liked it when he hummed. The sobbing was slowly fading to wet sniffles. 

"Dean's staying with you indefinitely. God knows when the trial will actually go down. Even then, it's clear Dean isn't benefiting from state or facility care. Jeanine was agreeable once I laid out all the options. She'll even see that you get a pension for Dean's expenses. You have a whole lot of baby shopping to do. Charlie agreed to help."

Castiel was suddenly aware of how wet his cheeks were becoming. He reached up and touched the tear tracks. He stared at the shiny moisture on his fingers. When had he started crying? _Why_ was he? He was happy. Relieved. 

He was terrified. 

"Let's get the finger-sticks done for my samples then you're going home to take care of your baby." Castiel nodded dumbly. He should be asking questions. Planning. Laying out details. No words would come though. His movement felt robotic.

Gabriel fished one hand out of Dean's blanket burrito and cleaned two fingers with an alcohol wipe. He winced apologetically and pricked them with a tiny disposable lancet. Dean's gentle sobs escalated back into confused wails at the sudden pain. Castiel _shsh'ed_ him and rocked him back and forth in his lap as Gabe pressed the small drops of blood to sample paper. He finished up with two small circular Band-Aids on both fingers. 

"Okay, all finished, Deanie. We're done here. Your Dada's gonna take you home and get you cozy." Gabriel smiled at Cas and gave him a wink. "Get out of here, Cas. Get him a bath and some cuddling."

"Gabe, my other patients... I can't just close the whole office."

Gabriel ushered Cas to the door. He was clutching Dean to himself, but he was hesitating in the doorway. Gabriel gave his baby brother a pat on the back to get him through the door. "I've arranged to fill in with your patients. Between me and Charlie, we'll widdle your patient list down to the most high-need patients and we'll get them taken care of. I promise. Your office won't burn down while you're gone."

Castiel gave an audible sigh of relief and a wane smile. "Thank you, Gabriel. I don't know how you did all of this."

Gabriel twiddled his fingers in the air. "Magic and sorcery," he answered with a grin. "Get out of here, Cassie. Take care of your baby. He's been waiting too long as is."

* * *

Castiel let himself in the backdoor and stepped into the darkened house. He'd been gone so much lately, it felt strange being home. He should have left lights on at the very least. It was like walking into a tomb. He shivered. More like walking into an ice box. He'd needed to crank the heat way up. Dean couldn't take this chill. 

"Okay, baby, we're home now. Let's get some lights on." Castiel kept up the soft narration as he moved about. Dean's gut-wrenching sobs had faded into exhausted whimpers, but the tear-stained, puffy face still told Cas all he needed to know. Dean was still miserable and confused. He couldn't tell how Little he was, but he was young. He wondered whether Dean even understood him. 

Cas made it to the living room and collapsed in the cushioned recliner with a sigh of relief. He toed his shoes off and leaned back as he situated Dean on his lap. The boy curled into his chest, one hand fisting his shirt and the other still clutching his stuffed bunny. Cas smiled wanly at the familiar sight of Mopsy. How far they'd come since she'd first met Dean. Cas reached for the small remote to his electric fireplace. The flames crackled to life and a soft current of warmth slowly washed over them. Dean's cries finally faded into silence and were replaced instead by the gentle suckling of the pacifier. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean's hair and stroked his sweaty forehead. From where he was watching, Dean's eyes were just barely open. He was fading fast. The Little was exhausted and utterly cried out. He needed food and sleep. Carefully, he eased himself upright and took Dean over to the over-stuffed couched. He held his breath in dread as he laid him down and tucked an afghan over him. He prayed with all his might Dean wouldn't wake up and begin screaming in fear. To his utter relief, Dean seemed content enough to rest on the couch alone. Cas quietly headed to the door where he'd set the makeshift diaper bag down. Between Benny, Gabriel, and himself, they'd managed to parse together a passable supply of emergency Little supplies. Bottles. Diapers. Pull-ups. Dean's clothes. It wasn't nearly enough by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do until Dean was stable enough to go shopping or Charlie stopped by with her deliveries later on. 

Castiel set the bag down on the plush carpet and sat down in front of it cross-legged to hunt for Dean's pajamas and a fresh diaper. He managed to find the desired articles as well as a clean bottle and packet of formula. He wrinkled his nose at the generic brand. He'd definitely be getting a nicer brand soon. Dean needed more calories then this. A more expensive brand would probably taste far better as well. Dean deserved the best. He checked on Dean quickly before heading to the kitchen to warm the bottle. When he returned, Dean had pulled the entire blanket over his head. He looked like a mummy. Castiel smiled to himself and knelt beside the couch. 

"Honey bee," he murmured, rubbing the covered legs. "Let's get you changed and fed then you can sleep. I promise." 

He hadn't been expecting an answer, but to his surprise, the blanket was slowly tugged down, and Dean's wide, confused eyes peered back at him. They were dark green and shimmering with unshed tears in the dim firelight. 

"C-Cas?" he croaked. His voice was raw and hoarse from his violent sobbing earlier. Castiel winced and gave himself a mental reminder to fix Dean some warm tea with honey as soon as he was able to stay Big enough to enjoy it. That sore throat needed to be soothed. 

"I'm here, Dean," he promised. He tucked his hand under the blanket and Dean's trembling fingers interlaced with his own. "You're at my house, Dean. I brought you home with me."

Dean's eyes went wide. He peered about questioningly and his eyes froze on the gently crackling of the fireplace. He looked stunned. 

"Why?" he finally stammered. 

"You weren't doing as well as we hoped with Missouri. You were doing well in your Little Space, but you weren't able to be Big. You started in-betweening pretty badly again." Castiel paused, uncertain of how much else he should tell. He didn't want to overwhelm him. "My brother is a specialist and he recommended you stay with me. We want to be sure you're safe while he works out a plan to help you long-term."

Dean's lip was wobbling. "S-sorry," he whispered. "Shouldn't have to babysit me."

"What? No, Dean, I'm glad you're here." Castiel's chest did an odd flip he couldn't quite decipher. "I-I _wanted_ to bring you home with me," he finished. 

Dean jerked his head up to stare. He looked dumbfounded at the idea of Cas actually wanting him in his home. Was it really that hard for him to believe? _Oh, baby..._

"You want me here?" Dean was clutching Mopsy to his chest like a life-preserver. He looked two second away from crying again and Castiel wasn't having that. He scooted onto the couch and hugged Dean to his chest. Dean stiffened at first, but quickly relaxed and sagged bonelessly against him. 

"Dean, I want you here with me. I... I've wanted that for a long time, but I didn't think it would work." Cas sighed, his soul aching. "If I hadn't waited so long, maybe you'd be better by now. I'm sorry."

Dean's face was pressed too hard against his chest to make out what Dean said. Cas got the idea he was telling him not to apologize, though. "I want to take care of you, Dean. Not just for now. _All_ the time. If... if you'll have me."

Dean stiffened again and this time, he didn't relax. Fear hit Castiel sharply in the gut. No! He'd over-stepped. He'd scared Dean. Castiel grimaced, glad Dean couldn't see his face. "You don't have to make any decisions," Castiel rushed. "For tonight, let's just get you cleaned up and fed. We can talk tomorrow or later on if you'd like. There's absolutely no rush. I promise." The gentle murmur and promise seemed to do the trick. Dean slowly relaxed again. Cas felt the warm sigh against his t-shirt. Crisis averted. 

"Okay, I'm going to clean you up now," he explained, untangling himself from Dean's octopus grasp. Dean allowed him to lay him flat on the couch and slip a changing pad beneath his hips. It was difficult to tell if Dean was in-betweening still or just exhausted. The bleary, drained look on Dean's face was too vague. He lay silent and stoic as Castiel methodically went to work easing his sweat pants down and un-taping the soggy diaper. Dean made a soft sound of misery as Cas peeled back the cold mess and began wiping away the remaining traces the diaper left behind. 

"Shsh, sweetie. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Gross!" Dean hissed, flinging an arm over his eyes in shame. 

"No, honey. You could never be gross. This isn't your fault. You were very upset earlier. Accidents are normal." Castiel eyed the reddened skin with concern. It wasn't a full-on rash, but it could easily be headed that way. He'd be sure to get Dean in a bath tomorrow. For now, he smoothed on a layer of barrier cream to soothe the irritation and prevent further itchiness. The new diaper was taped on snuggly.

Dean looked up at Castiel questioningly when he finished. "I have some lotion I think you might like," Cas offered, feeling suddenly shy. It was one thing to care for Dean in the professional sterility of his medical office. It was quite another to have him alone on his couch. The crush of responsibility stunned him. He was all Dean had at that moment. "It's lavender and eucalyptus," Castiel rushed on. "It always helps me sleep. How about we try some for you tonight. You need some good rest." Dean nodded mutely looking a little Bigger than moments before. Castiel gingerly massaged dollop of lotion into Dean's legs and feet. He pressed firmly all the way down to the muscle in a gentle, slow massage. Dean's eyes began flickering and the stress seemed to iron itself from his features. He went limp, practically purring with pleasure as Cas continued the treatment on his back, arms, and chest. When he finished, he threaded Dean's limp arms and legs through the proper openings in his pajamas. He propped Dean up in his arms and brought the bottle to his mouth. When the nipple touched Dean's lips, he seemed to startle awake. He blinked hard up at Cas and frowned a little. 

"Not... not Little," he argued sleepily. "'n-betweein.' Don't need a ba."

"Hush, honey. I know you're not all the way Little. It's okay. How about just for tonight?" Cas pressed. "You're so sleepy. Bottle tonight, food tomorrow?" Dean gave a drunken nod and flopped back into Castiel's arms. This time, he didn't resist the nipple that pressed between his lips. He latched on and began suckling, eyes closed and body loose and relaxed in Castiel's grip. Castiel stared down and smiled at the scene. He'd never seen Dean quite this relaxed before. It was strange to see the flight or fight instinct absent from him. He looked safe and content. 

Fuzzy snapshots of his dream from that morning flash-bulbed in his brain. He frowned slightly. The dream felt so fake and disjointed now. Like he'd been playing house with a doll. He looked down again at the Little snuggled warmly in his arms. This was real. It was even better than he could have imagined. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean settles into his new home with mixed success, Charlie goes shopping, and Cas cleans out his spare room.

Dean sighed into the warm pillow and allowed himself the pleasure of a luxurious, full-body stretch. The blankets cocooning him were warm and soft and smelled like mint and lavender. He kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the soft, early morning stillness surrounding him. It suddenly struck him how odd it was. Usually, he could already hear the nurses and techs waking up the Little's in the rooms next to his. Mornings started early at the Bede Memorial Home. It wasn't uncommon to hear fussy crying and morning clatter. Getting a houseful of Little's ready for the day was hard work. 

Where was all the noise?

Dean's eyes snapped open and he stared about in a confused daze. He wasn't in his room? His bunny mobile wasn't there. He wasn't even in his special bed with low rails towards the top. He was lying on a plump gray couch with several fuzzy afghans tucked about him. Mopsy was cuddled in his arm and Squeak was draped across his chest. They were the last links of familiarity he had. Everything else around him was new and foreign.

Where was he?

Fragile cobweb memories floated through his panicky mind as he slowly recalled the events of the night before. Cas? Was he really at his house? It was hard to believe a successful, brilliant doctor would even have the patience let alone _desire_ to take a whiny, screwed-up baby home with him. He wasn't even a relative! Why hadn't he just left him with Missouri?

Dean jerked upright. He felt himself clutching at the afghans like a shield. Something pulled at his t-shirt. A lime green pacifier was clipped to the front. A tiny cartoon frog decal grinned back at him. Dean blushed hot red and yanked it off his shirt. He didn't need it!

Soft clatter from the kitchen made Dean freeze. He sniffed at the warm, breakfast smells that suddenly stole his attention. Cas was making breakfast. His belly rumbled as he considered what the smells might mean. Eggs? Sausage? There was something sweet too. Pancakes maybe? 

Dean tried easing his way off the couch. He wanted to go see the food. He'd be sneaky. Cas probably wouldn't even notice him. 

Dean was on the floor, stunned and hurting before he fully realized what had happened. The afghan lay tangled about his feet, keeping him trapped and miserable on the carpet. His chin throbbed where it had smacked against the floor and his nose and eyes burned with tears. He choked back a startled sob and scrubbed a fist against his moist eyes. It didn't even hurt that bad. Why was he crying? He should be crying. He'd just tripped! It wasn't like it was the end of the world. 

"Oh, baby, it's okay!" Warm, gentle hands were scooping him up and cradling him close to a rumbly chest that smelled like mint and honey. "Did you fall off the couch and bump your head?" Dean nodded miserably into the warm hug. He was still choking on his tears. "It's okay, honey. Let's get you a blankie and we'll sit together for a bit."

Dean let Cas tuck a afghan about him and lean them back against the couch. He kept his face tucked into the warm comfort of Castiel's hug. His chin really didn't hurt anymore, but he was in no mood to look up and acknowledge what a big baby he was being about this. He wasn't technically Little, but he sure didn't feel Big enough to deal with the fact a man he still barely knew had willing taken him into his house. He was being such a nuisance! Why would Cas want him here? Wasn't he already causing enough work for him?

"Dean, are you Big right now?"

Dean finally lifted his head just enough to peak up at Castiel shyly with one eye. The man was smiling down at him with such understanding. Dean's neck and face felt uncomfortably warm. Cas always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. 

"Still feeling a little in limbo? It's okay. I don't expect you to be all the way Big right now." Cas stroked the back of his sweaty hair. "I have breakfast all ready for us. I heard that you've been doing much better with eating. How about we go try some french toast?"

Dean's breath quickened. He loved french toast! It was even better than pancakes and he almost never had it. The few times he could remember were when his dad dumped Sam and him at Bobby's for a long weekend in between jobs. Bobby couldn't cook much but he made french toast that could charm angels from Heaven. 

Cas chuckled and rubbed Dean's back. "I can feel your belly rumbling. Let's do a quick clean-up then we'll go eat."

Dean gulped hard and let Cas lead him down the hallway to an immaculate bathroom. He felt his eyes go wide at the gleaming cream-colored marbled countertops and crisp tile flooring. He supposed that a part of him knew that Cas was probably well-off. He was a highly sought-after doctor after all. Of course he had money. Still, to see the wealth and success with his own eyes made Dean's chest give an uncomfortable flip-flop. His memories of second-hand jeans and scratchy Walmart t-shirts stung. It had felt like a huge deal getting to pick out the ridiculous, sugar-riddled breakfast cereal when he and Sam had been Little. Cas could probably buy anything he wanted. 

Dean caught Cas's worried frown out of the corner of his eye. Oh, great, he was worrying Cas. Why couldn't he be less trouble? Cas didn't deserve this!

"Dean, I'm going to fill the bathtub up. It's been a while since you had a full bath. You're probably stiff from the couch and the warmth might help." Dean sat awkwardly on the closed toilet lid while Cas puttered about the bathroom getting thing ready. It occurred to him that he should probably be pushing for more independence. He could take a quick shower by himself and then get changed. He shouldn't be relying on Cas for all of this. But he was so freaking tired. It was bone-deep weariness that clung to Dean from head to toe. It made him want to sink to the floor and curl up in a ball. He was tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like everything was a battle. He wanted Cas. Wanted the time and care the man kept pushing toward him with his gentle eye-crinkling smiles and soft, gentle hands. 

Dean wanted this.

"Okay, Dean, I got some bubbles in the tub. Eucalyptus and mint. Charlie gave me the bubble bath last Christmas--never got around to trying it. It's her favorite brand--swears by it even. If you liked the lotion last night, you'll probably like this too."

Mutely, Dean raised his arms and let Cas slip his t-shirt free. He looked away as Cas knelt down to shimmy Dean's sweats free of his legs. He didn't want to see the swollen, cold diaper that was clinging to him. He swallowed hard past the rock in his throat. He felt so disgusting.

"Aw, honey, it's okay. It's okay to have accidents. You're headspaces have been very hard lately. It's not your fault."

Benny had murmured similar things to Dean in the past when he'd been trying to free him from imminent panic attacks back at Missouri's. Benny had been so kind and sincere, but the gentle reassurances hadn't done much to stave off Dean's panicked misery. It felt different now, though, listening to Castle gentle him down from hysteria. Cas didn't think he was gross or bad. He didn't care that he couldn't control himself anymore. 

"Okay, let's get you in the tub. One foot. Two foot. And in you go. I got you, sweetie. I won't let you slip." 

Dean carefully eased his way over the edge, shaky and scared. His balance was still shot to hell and the idea of slipping on wet porcelain was terrifying. He was about to become one of those stupid _Life Alert_ commercials. Help, Dean's fallen, and he can't get up!

"Let's sit you down now. It's not too hot, honey. I checked it, I promise." Dean hissed at the shock of warmth on his bottom and back. He eased down into the water. It wasn't too hot. The bubbles drifted on the surface in a foamy carpet that concealed everything save the tops of his knees. He sighed and let his eyes close. The warmth of the water and the sweet scent of the bubble bath gentled their way into his senses. He felt high and limp like an over-cooked noodle. He felt his muscles loosen. Cas's hand was on his back, rubbing past the anxiety that still tried to invade. "I'm going to wash your back, honey."

Dean gave a shaky nod and let his head sag down to his chest as Cas worked. The washcloth was warm and soft and the sensation of the hot water going across his skin seemed to manually switch every anxious nerve off. Cas was quiet and systematic as he washed Dean, but it never felt rushed. He took his time with his back and then moved on to his arms and chest. He carefully brought the washcloth up to Dean's cheeks and smiled softly at Dean when he met his eyes. The blue eyes were warm and the corners gave familiar crinkles when he smiled. Dean ducked his head shyly. "I'm going to wet your hair now. I'll be very careful to keep the shampoo out of your eyes. Dean closed his eyes tightly. At first it was just anxiety over the threat of stinging soapy eyes. However, when Cas's knowing fingers went to work massaging the tension from his head, Dean's eyes relaxed and he sagged further into the water. He'd never felt anything so good. Cas kept lathering his hair for several more minutes before using a cup to carefully rinse the shampoo free. He tilted Dean's head carefully, and true to his word, not a spec of soap made it into Dean's eyes. Cas waited until Dean's eyes opened again before posing his next question. "I need to clean between your legs now, Dean. I want to be sure you don't get any more rashes. Are you okay with me doing it or would you like to?"

Dean gulped and gave a nervous shiver. He knew Cas would never hurt him. He could trust him. Cas had already seen and touched every inch of him when he'd been taking care of him full time back at the clinic. Still, he wasn't Little now. Cas shouldn't have to do this if he wasn't Little. 

"I will," he finally stammered out. Cas nodded with a understanding smile and passed the washcloth to Dean. He even turned his back to give Dean privacy. The act was so kind and understanding, Dean felt himself choke a little. Cas knew him too well. He went to work quickly and gave a soft noise of accent when he was finished. Cas turned back around and accepted the washcloth again. "Okay, feet last then we'll get you out and dried off. I don't want you getting chilled."

Dean could barely stifle a giggle as Cas cleaned between his toes. The man saw the smile and grinned. "Ticklish little piggies."

"Not pigs," Dean giggled in spite of himself as he tried to pull away. 

"This little piggy went to market--"

Dean couldn't keep back the grin at the silly nursery rhyme. He allowed Cas access to his foot just long enough to reach the final verse. He hadn't heard it in so long. Not since... Dean's chest gave an ache. Not since his mother was still giving him baths. 

Cas seemed to sense the sudden mood shift, but he didn't comment. He pulled the plug and the water began gurgling out. Dean started to stand, but Cas gently eased him back down. "Not yet, honey. I don't want you slipping. Let me get a towel on you first and then I'll help you step out." Dean sat somberly in the remaining fragments of bubbles while Cas reached for a fluffy blue towel on the rack beside them. The towel was draped over his shoulders and tucked close. Dean sighed into the soft folds. This was nothing like the ragged, bleach-stained towels of the road-side motels he'd frequented over the years. This towel was as warm as a quilt and fuzzy-soft. 

Cas eased his arms beneath Dean's arm pits and helped him slowly stand. One foot went over the side of the tub and then the other. Dean shuffled across the tile carefully with Cas' leading. Together, they reached a bedroom next to the bathroom. Dean stared wide-eyed at the huge bed and glossy desk across from it. He spied a walk-in closet just off to the side. 

"You room?" he whispered, still oggling. 

"Yes, I thought we could get you dressed and changed in here. More privacy and more comfortable. I don't want you slipping in the bathroom either." Cas was kneeling down and smoothing a changing pad on the floor. "Let's lay you down real quick, sweetie." Dean obeyed silently. He didn't watch Cas maneuver the diaper into place. He couldn't. Still, the man's hands were so careful and gentle. There was nothing accusing or hostile about the act. Cas helped him sit up and began threading a fresh t-shirt over his head. New sweat pants followed and a pair of socks so fuzzy Dean imagined himself walking on clouds. 

"There, all clean and ready." Cas beamed at him. He held out something in his hand and Dean frowned quizzically. An orange pacifier rested in the palm. A tiny cartoon orange was printed on the back equipped with a cheesy smile. "I don't want you accidently hurting your thumb," Cas explained. "Just in case you fully drop later and need it?" 

Dean gave a sober nod. He promised himself he wouldn't use even as Cas clipped the pacifier to his t-shirt and let it dangle.

"Breakfast now? I imagine you're hungery?" Dean perked up at the offer. His stomach was rumbly and definitely empty. Cas helped him upright and led him to the hallway again. Dean didn't realize he was still holding his hand until after they'd made it all the way to the kitchen. By then, it didn't matter. The smells were more than enough to steal all of his attention. 

Cas went to the stove and uncovered several steaming pans. He served up plates of french toast and scrambled eggs. He turned and smiled warmly at Dean as he nodded toward the table. "I have a plate all ready for you, Dean. Eat as much as you'd like." Dean hesitated as he eyed the plate. Cas had made all that from scratch for him?

"If you'd like a bottle instead, I can make one for you. Whatever you feel comfortable with right now." 

Cas was trying so hard to make him feel comfortable. Dean's chest ached at the realization. Why was Cas going through all this trouble for him. Surely, he could be down at his office actually accomplishing some real work. 

Dean shook his head shyly and took his seat. He stared at the food in wonder. He ignored the discomfort of his diaper and took several uncertain bites, half-expecting the plate to disappear into thin air. The food was intoxicating. Dean wanted to close his eyes and luxuriate in the flavor. Bede Memorial had always given him great food, but it had nothing on Cas' french toast! This was Heaven. 

Dean looked up from his plate to find Cas scooting a fresh cup of orange juice over toward him. Dean chose to ignore the sippy top and handles on the sides. He didn't care so long as there was more french toast to be had. 

He ate and sipped his juice and for that brief span of time he felt content and okay with his situation. He'd figure out what Cas had planned after breakfast. Until then, he'd let himself enjoy his feast and slice of normalcy. 

His chest panged with regret when he finally cleaned his plate. His stuffed belly wouldn't allow him to request any seconds. He sat back and looked up at Cas for the first time since he'd started eating. The man had finished his own slice of toast and small serving of eggs. He was sipping from a steaming coffee mug and scanning a newspaper. It was an honest newspaper. Real paper. It tickled Dean. Most people seemed to go to their phone for news. He couldn't remember the last time he'd watched someone reading from a real-life newspaper. How old was Cas?

"All finished?" Cas asked, smiling over the top of his paper. He set it down in front of him and regarded Dean. His brown furrowed slightly. "Did you get enough? I can make some more--"

Dean shook his head quickly. Even if he hadn't been stuffed, he didn't want to put Cas out any more than he already had. "I-I'm full," he admitted. He hated the babyish stammer that remained trapped in his voice. He wished he sounded older. "Thank you," he whispered. Cas just grinned at him, clearly pleased at the empty plate. 

"It's so good to see you eating, Dean. I'm so happy for you." 

Dean gave a jerky nod and ignore the red burning his ears. 

"Now, I do want to talk to you about a few things while you're Bigger." Dean noticed Cas didn't call him fully Big. He didn't correct him. "Do you remember meeting my brother, Gabriel?" Dean nodded, vivid colorful flashes of Hawaiian flowers filled his mental eye. "He does a great deal of research in Little physiology--particularly with regard to trauma and recovery. He took a saliva and blood sample from you last night because he feels you might benefit from some of that research. I'll let you know as soon as he gives me more information. For now, we agreed you might feel safest and more comfortable here with me. More privacy." Cas' voice trailed off a tad uncertainly. "Gabriel feels you might feel more stability here if you can stay a while. It will hopefully benefit your headspacing and prevent you from going into any more extended periods of in-betweening." Dean didn't miss the seriousness that had crept into Cas's words. He looked at him probingly. What wasn't he saying?

"Dean, are you okay with being here?" The bluntness of the question threw Dean. He wasn't sure how to answer. He'd missed Cas fiercely but that didn't mean he'd wanted to put him out and force him to babysit him around the clock. "I want to make you feel as comfortable and safe as possible. I will treat you as Big when you're Bigger, but I will need to care for you to some extent if you Drop or in-between. Is that okay with you? It will be just like it was at my office. You're safe here, Dean."

Dean was suddenly aware of the hot moisture filling his eyes. He was crying again? He was always crying. Angrily, he scrubbed at his eyes. He didn't want Cas to have to deal with this!

" _Shshsh_ , sweetie. It's okay. I imagine this is really overwhelming. you've had so many changes lately." Cas was helping him from the table and shepherding him toward the living room again. Before Dean fully realized it, he was tucked into Cas's side on the couch with an afghan snuggled around him. Cas was rocking him slightly in his arms and _shshing_ him. Dean snuggled deeper into the man's rumbly chest. 

He wasn't sure how long a stayed like that. Gradually, he was aware of soft voices and music. He peaked up and saw the TV had been switched on across from them. A cartoon monkey was playing on the screen. he was surrounded by tubs of ice cream in every color of the rainbow and then some. The monkey was chortling to himself as he began scooping ice cream from the cartons. He was building a giant ice cream sundae in what looked like a large punch bowel. The tower of ice cream scoops grew and grew until it teetered precariously. The monkey reached up to add a cherry on the very top just as a man in an impossibly yellow hat walked into the room. 

"GEORGE!"

The monkey gave a guilty laugh and struggled to hide the humongous ice cream sundae behind his back. Dean found himself smirking at the sight. There was no way the man couldn't see that monstrosity of ice cream behind the tiny monkey

"I like this show," Cas murmured with a small grin. "[Curious George](https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/curious-george-goes-to-an-ice-cream-shop-curious-george-no-23_ha-rey/546475/item/3080191/?mkwid=eiOzZoDs%7cdc&pcrid=70112861832&product=3080191&plc=&pgrid=21323637792&ptaid=aud-305373123344%3apla-292266026302&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_content=eiOzZoDs%7cdc%7cpcrid%7c70112861832%7cpkw%7c%7cpmt%7c%7cproduct%7c3080191%7cslid%7c%7cpgrid%7c21323637792%7cptaid%7caud-305373123344%3apla-292266026302%7c&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI7dKHraqV7QIVAR-tBh1iWgXtEAQYASABEgK2N_D_BwE#idiq=3080191&edition=2382727) was around even when I was a boy. The books were my favorite. We can read the books together at bedtime if you'd like." Dean nodded absently. His eyes were still glued to the screen. The monkey had produced a spoon from somewhere and was in the process of sampling his gigantic creation. The Man in the Yellow Hat still didn't seem impressed.

Together, Dean and Cas watched two more episodes of Curious George before Dean felt ready to leave the shelter of the couch and Cas' hug. The show was hilarious. Dean didn't even care that he wasn't all the way Little. The show was funny enough that even his Bigger headspace found the silliness enjoyable. That monkey got away with everything! He was crazy!

When Dean's sniffles had faded completely, Cas rose to his feet and knelt down beside Dean so he could look him in the face. "I need to get to work cleaning out my spare room. I've been using it as storage space for my work office, but I want to convert it into a bedroom and nursery for you now. I'm going to be just down the hallway. You can stay here or you can come watch if you'd like. It's up to you."

Dean took a long breath. The idea of Cas being away--even if it was just down the hall--felt terrifying. He didn't want to let him out of his line of sight. Still, the idea of him being so clingy and pathetic was just as scary. He should be able to spend some time alone without freaking out.

"I'll leave Curious George on for you. I've queued up my Netflix account to the cartoon section. The episodes will play automatically. You can come get me any time you want, though. I'll be just down the hall."

Dean gave a steely nod and told himself to be a big boy. He could do this!

Cas tucked the afghan around him and placed Mopsy and Squeak in his arms. From his nest on the couch, Dean watched him head down the hallway. He barely managed to stay where he was. The intro song to the next episode stole his attention before the anxiety got too bad. He glanced over at the screen and settled in for a new story. It didn't take long for Dean to become engrossed in the new plot. This time Curious George was borrowing a small airplane and taking a tour over the country side. Dean found himself grinning at the wild antics and reactions of the farmers and townspeople. The monkey was on a roll. 

It took two more episodes before Dean felt himself gradually surfacing from his Mid-space. He felt Bigger than before and his legs were growing restless. He eased himself off the couch and peered down the hallway. He heard distant movement and bangs. Castiel was clearly hard at work. Dean wanted to see what he was up to. It only seemed right given all the work he was putting out for Dean to have a room. It felt uncomfortable. Dean could just stay on the couch. He didn't need a whole room! 

Dean crept down the hallway feeling shier than he wished. The hallway felt so long and fluffy carpet squished under his toes. It didn't help that it was pale cream and spotless. There was a loud bang and Dean jumped outside the room. He took a gulp and peaked inside, half-afraid at what he might see inside. Cas was hunched on his hands and knees dropping stacks of papers and files into a large carboard box. His face was smudged with dusty fingerprints and his dark hair stood up wildly like he'd been running his hands through it compulsively. He looked tired and Dean's chest twinged with guilt. 

"Dean!" Cas grinned up at him like he hadn't been spending the past few hours breaking his back. "Do you want me to go put something else on for you?" 

"C-Can I stay back here with you?" Dean heard himself beg. He shifted from one foot to the other and tried not to squirm. Cas's eyes went soft and crinkling along the edges. 

"Of course, honey. Do you want some blankets? We can make a little seat for you."

"I... I can help you. I can put stuff away." Dean felt almost desperate to help. He needed to do something to earn his keep. Cas seemed to hesitate, but he gave a reluctant nod in the end. 

"If you'd really like to. You don't have to though. This isn't that big of a job." Dean begged to differ. He got down on his knees and began stacking papers. Cas passed him an empty box and Dean wet to work loading it. Most of the papers looked dull and uninteresting, but Dean paused at several familiar names. Cas's and Gabriel's full names were neatly typed out on several articles. They looked like articles--official and important. Dean eyed Cas curiously. It was hard to reconcile the smudged-up, disheveled man before him with the posh, celebrity doctor he seemed to be for so many. There was clearly much more to this man than Dean knew. 

The pair worked in easy, companionable silence for the next hour. They made good progress and by the top of the next hour, Cas stood up and dusted his pants off. He nodded approvingly at the room which seemed much emptier than before. "We can scoot the boxes out and I'll take them down to the basement later. Let's take a break for now. I believe snacks and drinks are in order."

Dean followed him out of the room to the kitchen and washed his hands at the sink. He let Cas pass him a warm washcloth for his dusty face. While he cleaned up he noticed Cas go quiet and careful. "Dean, do you need a bathroom break?" 

Dean cringed and went hot. He really hated that question. Still, he couldn't ignore the twinging he felt in his lower body. He hadn't gone since breakfast. He didn't feel wet, but Cas's reminder made the urgency grow. He gave a shaky nod and rushed off back down the hallway for the bathroom. He made it just in time, tugging off the diaper and squatting quickly. The padding was just barely damp and that was definitely a win in his book after so many horrible accidents. He shimmied it back up and fastened the tabs again the best he could. The sweat pants were tugged up again and he headed back to the kitchen to see what Cas was up to. He heard cupboards opening and closing. 

When he made it back he stopped and stared at the neatly cut up apple slices and cheese cubes. It looked like a freaking restaurant appetizer! Cas smiled reassuringly at him, but a question was in his eyes. "Do you need any fresh supplies, De?"

 _Supplies._.. Well now, that was an interesting way to put it. Dean blushed but enjoyed the fact he could shake his head 'no.' 

"I-I'm okay. Made it on time for once," he murmured, eyes averted. Cas looked ridiculously happy at the small victory. 

"I'm so happy to hear that, sweetheart. Let me know. Here, have a plate and I'll get some juice for you." Dean took his place at the table and eagerly tucked into his snack. The apples were crisp and the cheese cubes were so neat Dean felt bad ruining them. Cas set a fresh cup of juice in front of him. Dean noted it was a normal Tupperware cup--not a sippy one like from that morning. it was such a small gesture, but the meaning wasn't lost to Dean. Cas knew he was Bigger than before and he was treating him as such. He wasn't forcing him to be a baby all the time. They were nearly finished when the doorbell gave a soft ring. Dean stiffened. Who was there? He didn't want to see anyone! He didn't want anyone to see him!

Cas looked unconcerned. He smiled reassuringly at Dean's obvious panic. "It' Charlie, Dean. She told me she'd be over today with some deliveries from us." That most definitely piqued Dean's attention. He followed Cas to the door at a safe, cautious distance. When the door opened, Charlie marched inside immediately, arms bulging with bags. She grinned at him, face pure sunshine. "Dean! my favorite munchkin!" Her exuberance stunned Dean for a half second but her warmth quickly overtook his shyness. He smiled back, head tucking slightly. "How are you, Dean? Settling in okay?" He nodded and looked to Castiel for help. He loved Charlie, but he didn't want to keep talking just then. It was easier to listen. 

"Charlie, can you take the bags to the kitchen. We'll go through them there."

"What about the furniture? I'm having the delivery dudes drop by in an hour or so. Oh, and I sprang for the set-up fees. Figured you wouldn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon with an electric drill."

Castiel heaved an audible sigh of relief. "Bless you, Charlie, I don't even know if I own an electric drill."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, the last time I remember you trying to build something, you stabbed yourself with a screw driver. Didn't that leave a scar?" 

Dean smirked at the tell-tale blush stealing over Cas's features. Oh, so perfect Cas did have a secret weakness. 

"Never mind that..." Cas muttered. "Let's get to the kitchen and unpack." 

Dean stared wide-eyed as Charlie and Cas unloaded the bag. The boxes and items were all so colorful. He edged closer unconsciously. Charlie held up small box and grinned at him. "I found this and thought it'd be perfect." Dean took the box curiously and turned it this way and that, trying to figure out what he'd been given. It looked like an [arrowhead necklace](https://www.arktherapeutic.com/arks-arrowhead-chew-necklace/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMI1f-YkqqV7QIVXRitBh2PIAqYEAQYAyABEgIpMPD_BwE). The arrowhead itself was dark green, but it looked like it was made of hard silicone. 

"I mentioned you might like something to chew or suck on even when you aren't all the way Little," Cas explained gently. "You can use this and it won't be so obvious. It will keep your fingers safer." Dean wasn't sure what he felt. Shy? Embarrassed. Relieved? Cas opened the box and gave the arrowhead a quick clean at the sink. He passed it to Dean and waited patiently for his response. Dean clasped the necklace and the tightness in his chest loosened. He thought about all those times he'd caught himself chewing and sucking at his fingers Big or In-Between. It was humiliating and he hated the sore toothmarks that often remained. Cas helped him slip the necklace over his neck and the arrowhead rested on his chest. The weight of it felt just right. Reassuring and there, but not oppressive. 

"Cas I'll stick these in the sink to soak." Dean was pulled from his thoughts as he watched Charlie toss several boxes of bottles and sippy cups in the sink. Dean was intrigued at the wide assortment of colors and patterns. His attention was pulled to Cas before he could study the new cups too closely. The man was sorting through several bags of clothes.

"I gave Charlie your sizes," he explained. "She picked up some more pajamas and house clothes--things you can relax in. T-shirts and sweat shirts and the sort. We can always go out together so you can pick what you'd like too," he assured him. Dean nodded absently. He didn't really like the idea of going out clothes shopping. If Charlie wanted to get him sweatshirts, that was fine with him. Besides, his eyes were locked on the bag of brightly colored object Charlie was smuggling into the living room. It looked like toys of some sort. Dean wanted to see!

The doorbell rang again and Dean stiffened. Again!?

"That will be the delivery guys. They're earlier than I expected. Just as well. Sooner they start the sooner they end and you guys can chill."

Charlie and Cas headed to the door to go direct traffic. Dean trailed after them, but elected to hang back at the edge of the living room to watch. The delivery men headed inside with a long carboard box between them. They went down the hallway with Cas at the front leading the way. Charlie followed behind, chattering excitedly over the selections she'd picked. This process repeated several times until a total of six large boxes disappeared into the guest room. The next hour was full of hammering and electric whirring. Dean couldn't quite manage to go all the way into the guest room to watch. He peaked into the bedroom several times and frowned curiously at the strange new structures taking shape. The wood was glossy and dark and it smelled like fresh paint and hardware. Cas and Charlie were in their element, giving orders, suggestions, and asking a string of questions the deliverymen seemed too busy to answer. They were fast workers and they were heading out before the evening set in. Dean was curled on the couch watching in his nest of blankets. Mopsy was next to him. The first delivery man headed out to the truck with Cas to discuss final delivery details. Charlie was still in the bedroom fiddling with the new furniture. The second delivery man paused and looked over at Dean with a soft smile. He was young and scruffy with baggy work clothes. Dean tried to snuggle deeper into the blankets at the attention. 

"Hey there, Little Man!" he nodded back at the guestroom. "Your Daddy got you some great stuff! Top of the line."

Dean blinked, stunned. "He-he's not my dad," he croaked. 

The delivery man frowned, clearly confused. He seemed to shake it off quickly, though. Instead, he gave a kind smile. "Still, you got someone great taking care of you. You should'a seen him in there. Rushing around like he was building the freaking Statue of Liberty. Everything had to be perfect." He shook his head with a wry grin. "Forgot how sweet first-time parents were. Reminds me of my sister." The man gave an easy-going wave and headed out the front door. The house became abruptly quiet and still. Dean sat digesting the man's words for several long moments. Cas was just babysitting him for a while. It wasn't like he'd actually adopted him. He'd be leaving eventually. What would Cas do with the room when he was gone? Would he end up adopting someone else?

With that uncomfortably squirmy thought in his mind, Dean edged down the hallway to see what had taken place in the guest room in his absence. When he made it to the doorway, he stopped and stared, open-mouthed. The room had been transformed. A twin bed sat against the far wall. It had the low safety rails at the head just like at MIssouri's. However, Dean noticed the rails extended further down. The bottom ones slid under the sides, but it was clear they could be snapped upright. It was a bed, but it could be a crib too if Dean needed it to be. Charlie was tucking a fluffy green comforter over the top. She paused to adjust a mobile that spun slowly above it. A blue moon with a constellation of green and gold stars twirled lazily. Dean's chest went warm and his eyes continued to explore. A low table stood against the opposite wall. A changing pad was stretched across the top. Dean quickly moved on, unwilling to dwell on the full implications. A rocking chair sat in the corner with a fuzzy green afghan folded on the seat. A bookshelf had been set up beside the chair and Dean noticed a box of books beside it. Was that a monkey on one of the covers? Dean felt the start of a grin. Cas had been serious about his love for Curious George. 

Wait! What was that?!

A [rectangular table](https://www.wayfair.com/Wood-Designs--Activity-Island-Cubby-with-Table-Only-WD990753-L524-K~WDN2049.html?refid=GX414749668047-WDN2049&device=c&ptid=304523308743&network=g&targetid=pla-304523308743&channel=GooglePLA&ireid=101464294&fdid=1817&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI7L6C2aqV7QIVdiCtBh3UJQkdEAQYAyABEgLEMfD_BwE) was just off-center in the room. The top was empty and slightly sunken in as if it was meant to be filled with something. Dean spied a multitude of drawers tucked along the sides of the table. 

Was that...

"I asked Ash for the brand he used at Missouri's for his therapy sessions. He recommended this one." Cas was at his side, taking in the brand new room. He was smiling and utterly satisifed looking. At the same time, there was an air of anxious expectation in his expression, as if he was nervous Dean didn't fully approve. 

"You got a sensory table?" Dean's voice sounded almost hoarse with disbelief. 

"You can still continue therapy with Ash and Garth at Missouri's. We'll set up a few days a week. I thought this table would be helpful here though. You can play with it as much as you'd like. Charlie got an assortment of toys that go with it. We can experiment with it and see which you like most."

Dean was speechless. 

This was all his?

Seriously. Cas had done all this for him?

"Dean? Honey, are you okay?" Cas looked stricken as if he was afraid he'd broken Dean. His arms were outstretched, an invitation to a hug he wasn't sure Dean wanted or needed. 

Dean wanted it.

He was in Cas's arms before he had time to fully process the thought. He squeezed and breathed in the cologne. He couldn't believe this crazy man that had done all this for some baby that wasn't even his. Cas's chest rumbled in a hum and he squeezed Dean back, one hand going to the back of his head. "Oh, Dean," he murmured into his hair. "It's okay, honey." Dean felt Cas slip the arrowhead necklace up toward his mouth and he accepted it quietly. He gummed it quietly, enjoying the soft pressure against his teeth. 

They stayed like that until Charlie's soft voice tugged them back to the present. She was standing in the doorway behind them smiling from ear to ear. Her eyes were soft with emotion. "I have hot chocolate in the living room. Also, screw your electricity bill, Cas. I cranked the fireplace on too. We're having s'mores."

Dean sniffled and thumbed away the tell-tale moisture on his cheeks. He let Cas take his hand and lead him to the living room. It had been a day. It wasn't even technically over. So much had changed, though. In the course of an afternoon, he'd gotten an entire bedroom as well as the proof of utmost devotion from a man that seemed to possess an irrational level of care and concern for his existence. 

"Dean?" Cas murmured. Dean hesitated. Charlie was too far ahead of them to hear. "I-I haven't upset you have I? This isn't too much?"

Dean snorted. "Too much?" he croaked. "You did all this for me. I don't even know what to say?" Cas frowned, clearly worried. 

"What... what if I ruin it?"

"Dean, you could never ruin anything." Cas's hand squeezed his. In that moment, a load seemed to slip from Dean's shoulders. In that moment, he actually believed him. 

Together, they went to the living room. Charlie was tossing blankets to them and setting plates of graham crackers and marshmallows on the table. Her and Cas were chattering and preparing long metal skewers with fancy wooden handles. 

"Here you go, honey." Cas pressed a skewer handle in Dean's hands and helped him angle it toward the fireplace. "Yep, there you go. I'll get you a cracker when you're ready." Dean held his skewer carefully, half-terrified he would drop it. He watched the warm glow of the fireplace as his marshmallow turned colors and bubbles. He sank back against Cas's shoulder and smiled. He couldn't believe this was his. He only hoped it would last longer than he feared. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas's perspective of Dean's first day, Gabe goes on a deep dive into the biochemistry of Little's, and Dean's clock continues ticking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience. I've been working almost non-stop (que the Hamilton soundtrack). I hope it was worth the wait. :)

Cas knew he was tip-toeing through the house. He was practically creeping along the walls trying desperately to be quiet and keep from waking Dean. Exhaustion had leached the color from his already fair, freckled cheeks and left a pair of impressive purple-grey bags beneath each eye. Little's should never look that tired and drained. They should be care-free and happy. They should be playing. 

Dean had been none of those things. Painful flashbacks of Dean's confused and panicky sobs from the night before made Cas's chest ache sharply. There's been nothing for him to do except hug him tight and try to reassure him. He doubted Dean had been cognizant enough to even understand much of it. 

Cas peeked into the living room and spotted the still, silent lump still curled on the couch fast asleep. The afghan was tucked tightly about Dean, obscuring much of his face. He looked peaceful. Cas desperately wished it would stay that way. However, he knew there was little chance of that. The moment Dean awoke, the entire day would be a toss-up. He had no idea how Dean would respond to being alone with him at his house. Gabe had been so sure it would be the safety and security Dean needed. Cas couldn't help but doubt. It was still a big change. Another big change. Dean had already had his fair share of those. 

Cas worried his bottom lip pensively and tip-toed to the kitchen. He quietly went to work on breakfast. He wouldn't rush Dean awake to eat, but there was no harm in having everything ready. Maybe the assurance of a hot, ready breakfast would be enough to distract Dean from whatever anxiety he'd face when he awoke. 

It was soothing in a way. Scrambling eggs. Dipping toast. Setting his coffee to brew. He was rarely home enough in the mornings to bother with a real breakfast. Work often drove him from his house early with barely enough time for a drive-through breakfast and Dunkin' coffee. 

This was nice. Cas sipped at his coffee and breathed in the sweet steam. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this. 

Soft cries hit his ears like scalding water. He rushed to the living room, dread, pooling his gut. Dean was crumpled on the floor, tangled in blankets and crying miserably. He looked panicky as though he was still not fully awake. Cas's chest ached at the sight and he had to force himself not to rush over and scoop him up into a hug. It would startle him too badly. He moved carefully and deliberately as if he was approaching a timid fawn. He was slow and gentle when he hugged Dean to his chest. He felt him stiffen but almost instantly relax into the hug. He was that touch-starved. "Oh, baby, it's okay," he murmured into Dean's damp, sweaty hair. "Did you fall off the couch and bump your head?" There was a miserably, jerky nod and Dean huddled closer. "It's okay, honey. Let's get you a blankie and we'll sit together for a bit."

Dean was limp and acquiescing as Cas helped him back up onto the couch and tucked him into his side. The afghan was tucked over him and Cas rocked him gently. Dean sniffles seemed to fade at the calming motion. Cas kept up the soothing. He was in no rush. Dean could take all the time he needed to calm down. Slowly, the sniffles faded into silence with only the occasional hiccup left-over. Dean was peeking up at him subtly from where his face was mushed against Cas' side. His cheeks were still red and puffy, but his eyes held awareness. Cas _hmmed_ thoughtfully. Was he Big or Little? Or, God-forbid, trapped in the no-man's land of In-Betweening?

"Dean, are you Big right now?"

He lifted his head just enough to meet Cas' gaze fully, albeit it was just the one, shy eye. It was answer enough. 

"Still feeling a little in limbo? It's okay. I don't. I don't expect you to be all the way Big right now," Cas promised. He rubbed at Dean's tacky hair. He was due a bath, but he wasn't sure Dean would go along with the plan. Would he be asking too much to try and get Dean in the tub? The uncertainty niggled at Cas. He was over-thinking, over-analyzing. Crap... he had no idea what he was doing. It was one thing to work with Littles in a temporary, controlled setting. He was more than comfortable with 20 minute office visits. What was he supposed to do with a Little full-time?

"I have breakfast all ready for us. I heard you've been doing much better with eating. How about we go try some french toast?"

Food was a safe topic. Yep, he could work with food.

Apparently, Dean was of the same mind because the Little instantly perked up at the promise of hot food. He looked down-right excited even. Cas allowed himself a victorious chuckle. "I can feel your belly rumbling." Cas was forced to pump to the breaks a moment later. Dean shifted, and a distinctly wet squish made itself known against Cas's thigh. He winced inwardly and hated himself for what he had to say next. "Let's do a quick clean-up then we'll go eat."

Dean went ram-rod stiff in Cas's hug. Cas cringed and forced himself to keep moving. He was afraid if he hesitated too long, Dean would shut down. He had to keep them moving before the anxiety turned to rock-hard inertia. He helped Dean ease off the couch and led him over to the hallway. Dean gripped his hand tight as they eased their way down the hallway to the bathroom. Cas gulped and prayed he wasn't about to traumatize Dean further. The boy's eyes went saucer-wide when the reached the bathroom. He let him stand and stare while he went to work filling the tub. He dumped in several capfuls of bubble bath. He smiled at the fuzzy tickle in his nose. Dean would love this! Sure enough, the boy's eye went just a tad bit bigger at the sight of bubbles towering in the water. He still looked hesitant at the idea of taking a bath. 

"Okay, Dean, I got some bubbles in the tub. Eucalyptus and mint. Charlie gave me the bubble bath last Christmas--never got around to trying it. It's her favorite brand--swears by it even." Cas was babbling. He heard himself chattering aimlesslessly, desperate to fill the silent void Dean's anxiety was creating. "If you liked the lotion last night, you'll probably like this too," he finally trailed off weakly. 

Somehow, his inane babbling seemed to be what Dean needed. Somehow. 

Dean was raising his arms shakily and staring back at Cas shyly, his eyes flitting about and finally settling on the floor. Cas swallowed hard and went to work. He carefully shimmied Dean's t-shirt off his and knelt to take care of the sweats. This was strangely hard. He felt like a resident working with his first patient. He was terrified of breaking him. Dean was shivering. Out of terror or cold, Cas wasn't sure. He needed to finish this up! The swollen, cold pull-up made a horrible wet plunk on the tile and Dean let out a horrible, soft sound. Cas's heart cracked. He needed to move past his own insecurity and fear. He needed to be what Dean needed. 

"Aw, honey," he whispered. "It's okay to have accidents. Your headspaces have been very hard lately. It's not your fault." Dean sniffed and rubbed a hand against his eyes. "Okay, let's get you in the tub," Cas pressed. "One foot, two foot, and in we go. I got you, sweetie." Dean hesitated with one leg in and one out. "I won't let you slip."

And just like that, Dean was inside, carefully sitting and jerking with surprise at the warm and tickle of the bubbles against his skin.

"That's right. Let's sit you down now. It's not too hot, honey. I checked it. I promise." Dean gave a bitten-off little hiss at the temperature change but gingerly took his seat and stared at the sea of bubbles around him. He hesitantly reached out and touched a mound of frothy bubble bath foam almost reverently. It was precious. Pure. It was like seeing all the child-like innocence Dean had been robbed from make a tiny, shy appearance. Castiel rested a hand on Dean, shivery skin and reached for a washcloth with his other. "I'm going to wash your back, honey."

Dean gave a shaky nod and let his head sag. Cas saw and took his opportunity. He went to work, smiling as he watched the tension slowly ease from Dean's taught body. The hot, scented water and warmth of the washcloth seemed to be magic. By the time he brought the washcloth up to Dean's face, the boy was finally brave and relaxed enough to meet his eyes. Cas smiled and took in the deep green of Dean's stare. He looked so knowing--so weary. He was still Dean. 

"I'm going to wet your hair now. I'll be very careful," Cas promised. He meant it. There was no way in Heaven or Earth he was letting soap sting Dean's eyes!

The remainder of the bath was quiet and gentle. Cas felt warmth grow in his chest. He would have given anything to give Dean some bath toys to play with. He wished hard for the duckie Charlie had given Dean. For his part, Dean seemed to be content enough to relax in the gentle warmth of the bath. Cas made a mental promise to give Dean some bath toys for next time if he wanted them. 

Then came the hard part. 

"I need to clean between your legs now, Dean," Castiel forced out. "I want to be sure you don't get any more rashes. Are you okay with me doing it or would you like to?" Dean looked so small. How could someone have hurt him so badly? Dean was clearly upset by the question, but there was no way around it. Cas hated himself. He swallowed really really hard.

"I will," Dean finally answered, eyes wet and averted. Cas passed him the washcloth and made a point of turning around and busying himself with Dean's towel at the counter. He'd give Dean all the privacy and dignity he could. So much had already been stripped away from him. He listened to the soft splashes and stirring of the water behind him and tried not to let himself imagine how awkward and miserable Dean must still feel in such a new, alien environment. He must feel so horribly vulnerable. 

Finally, Dean gave a soft sound of permission and Cas turned back around. The Little was staring up at him expectantly, cheeks pink. "Okay, feet last then we'll get you out and dried off. I don't want you getting chilled."

Dean was ticklish! Cas mentally cheered at the new discovery. Dean was giggly and soft-eyed as Cas went to work on his feet and toes. The awkwardness of several moments ago was already gone and forgotten. Dean looked so young as he squirmed and splashed away from Cas's washcloth and playful hands. "Ticklish little piggies!" Cas announced jubilantly. The bath was a success. 

He got Dean bundled into a towel and helped him shuffle down the hallway. His balance was still so bad. Cas made a mental note to start Little-proofing all the sharp corners he could find. Dean was at risk enough, without the threat of hitting his head on a stray table edge.

"Your room?"

Dean looked boggled and hesitant as Cas lead him over to his bed. He stood frozen and staring around the soft, pastels and grays of the room. Cas smiled carefully and gestured to the fresh clothes he had waiting on his bed. 

"Yes, I thought we could get you dressed and changed in here. More privacy and more comfortable. I don't want you slipping in the bathroom either." Dean shyly took his place on the changing pad Cas laid out, but he refused to meet his eyes. "Let's lay you down real quick, sweetie." Cas mentally walked him through the process of getting Dean dressed and diapered. He'd done this so many times. He'd never done this with a Little in his sole care. He taped the diaper in place and hurried to get the sweats tugged up and in place. Dean relaxed once the clothes were all on. Cas relaxed too. Then came the next hurdle. 

"I don't want you accidently hurting your thumb," Cas explained gingerly as he offered the orange pacifier. Dean instantly recoiled, face blooming pink. "Just in case you fully drop later and need it?" Cas rushed. Dean still looked hesitant and guilty, but he allowed Cas to clip the pacifier on his t-shirt. 

Together, they made their way to the kitchen, Dean's eyes brightening as the warm smells grew. By the time Dean was seated, he looked visibly eager. He was staring about for the source of the delicious odors. Cas watched Dean hesitated over the plate of steaming breakfast. He frowned, worried, as he went back to those dark days of upsets stomachs and vomiting. Dean had gone through so much just to keep normal food down. He'd been starving. 

"If you'd like a bottle instead, I can make one for you. Whatever you feel comfortable with right now." Dean gave a little head shake and raised his fork stubbornly. He looked determined. Sure enough, he began tucking into his food. His eyes went dreamy and soft as he munched down the french toast. Cas waited just long enough to see Dean eating with ease before he began his own breakfast. He peaked over the top of his newspaper to spy every now and then. The sight made him grin a little giddily. 

Breakfast didn't take long with Dean's newfound appetite. He was resting back in his chair sleepy and content. Cas wanted to scoop him close and snuggle. It wasn't the time, though, he thought achingly. They needed to talk while Dean was still Big enough to understand. He made sure Dean had really had enough food before launching into the painful conversation. 

"I want to talk to you about a few things while you're Bigger." Dean looked up shyly. "Do you remember meeting my brother, Gabriel? Dean gave a silent nod. "He does a great deal of research in Little physiology--particularly with regard to trauma and recovery. He took a saliva and blood sample from you last night because he feels you might benefit from some of that research. I'll let you know as soon as he gives me more information. For now, we agreed you might feel safest and more comfortable here with me. More privacy." Cas studied Dean's face, curious what was really going through the Little's mind.

"Gabriel feels you might feel more stability here if you can stay a while. It will hopefully benefit your head-spacing and prevent you from going into any more extended periods of in-betweening." Dean's face was so blank. What was he thinking? "Dean, are you okay with being here?" he finally burst. He hated the bluntness, but he couldn't stand how empty Dean's response was. He needed certainty. "I want to make you feel as comfortable and safe as possible. I will treat you as Big when you're Bigger, but I will need to care for you to some extent if you Drop or in-between. Is that okay with you? It will be just like it was at my office. You're safe here, Dean." He heard his own voice grow soft and pleading. He needed Dean to know how badly he was trying. 

Dean's only response was fresh tears. He sniffled and Cas could see the growing tears from where he sat across the table. Dean was scrubbing at his eyes, desperate not to let him see. Oh, Crap! He'd broken him!

" _Shshsh_ , sweetie. It's okay. I imagine this is really overwhelming. you've had so many changes lately." Cas knelt by Dean's side and hugged him toward his chest. He felt so fragile in his arms, like a glass doll at risk of spontaneously shattering. Cas felt himself forcing down his panic. He shouldn't have tried to have such a Big conversation with Dean when it was clear he wasn't all the way there. Dean was still fragile and delicate. He was in no shape to have such deep conversations. It could wait. Cas got them tucked back on the couch and under the afghans. Dean seemed content enough with the decision. He was buried into his side. Cas breathed a sigh of relief and let his head sink back into the couch cushions. He'd take this break now that he had it. He needed to regroup and come up with a plan for the rest of the day. Dean had been successfully changed, bathed, and fed. What else should he do with him? What was safe to do with him? He didn't want him to cry again. 

Cas fiddled with the remote and finally settled on a new plan. TV was safe. He rarely watched it, except for when he was at his most stressed and sleep deprived. There had been plenty of nights he'd stumbled into his living room and watched 6 plus hours of The Great British Baking Show. He'd never admit it to another living soul, however. 

He stared accusingly at his Netflix queue. No, they were not watching _The Witcher_. No they were not watching _The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina_. He was not about to give his Little nightmares on their first day!

Cas quickly switched accounts and breathed a sigh of relief at the colorful, safe thumbnails of Netflix Kids. Curious George grinned brightly and Cas sealed the decision. He started up the first episode and waited for Dean to notice the new music and sounds. 

15 minutes later, he was mentally patting himself on the back as he watched Dean smirk and giggle softly at the TV. Curious George had a new fan. "[Curious George](https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/curious-george-goes-to-an-ice-cream-shop-curious-george-no-23_ha-rey/546475/item/3080191/?mkwid=eiOzZoDs%7cdc&pcrid=70112861832&product=3080191&plc=&pgrid=21323637792&ptaid=aud-305373123344%3apla-292266026302&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_content=eiOzZoDs%7cdc%7cpcrid%7c70112861832%7cpkw%7c%7cpmt%7c%7cproduct%7c3080191%7cslid%7c%7cpgrid%7c21323637792%7cptaid%7caud-305373123344%3apla-292266026302%7c&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI7dKHraqV7QIVAR-tBh1iWgXtEAQYASABEgK2N_D_BwE#idiq=3080191&edition=2382727) was around even when I was a boy. The books were my favorite. We can read the books together at bedtime if you'd like." Dean nodded and Cas made a mental note to order the books on Amazon the first free moment he had. He was determined to set up a safe and comforting bedtime routine for Dean ASAP. He doubted Dean's sleep cycle was fixed. He was determined to get Dean all the rest and relaxation he could. Bedtime stories were a must. 

They watched a few more episodes together. Dean was still slumped against his side, but he was much more aware and engaged. He'd stopped crying completely and he was clearly very taken with the new cartoon. Cas saw his opening and forced himself to take it. "I'll leave Curious George on for you. I've queued up my Netflix account to the cartoon section. The episodes will play automatically. You can come get me any time you want, though. I'll be just down the hall." Dean's eyes look wide and scared, but Cas new he needed to start normalizing their day. He needed to get a move on his cleaning. His guest room was trashed and Charlie was due to stop by in just a few hours. The new furniture she'd promised to take care of would also be arriving. He needed to be productive. Dean needed him to be if he was going to have a clean bedroom by that evening. Dean seemed to be going through a similar thought process because after several tense moments, he also gave a steely, newly-determined nod and allowed Cas to excuse himself down the hallway. Guilt stung Cas, but he new this was right. Dean couldn't stay glued to his side all the time. It wasn't healthy developmentally. He needed to help Dean form a healthier form of attachment. 

When he got to the guest room he stopped and stared. How had he let it get this bad? Boxes and loose papers were scattered about the room. It smelled grungy and dusty. Cas wrinkled his nose and quickly cracked the window open to air it out. Living alone had meant he could be as messy and casual as he wished. Man, it was coming back to bite him in the butt now. He could only hope and pray he'd get this cleaned up before Charlie arrived. She'd crucify him if she walked in on this. 

He got to work packing boxes. Thankfully, there was no old furniture to move. It was mostly old medical school projects and papers he'd authored. There were a few folders of news articles on his career and awards from the past. He stopped and enjoyed the clipping from when he'd opened his practice. He looked so young in the picture! His hair was so dark with impossibly messy curls. He looked cocky and smart and on top of the world. His age suddenly felt so heavy. His back was twinging painfully as he sat cross-legged on the floor. His forty-six year old vertebrae hated him. Old bones. Old man. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to think about the gray hidden among his thinner curls. When had he gotten so old?

There was soft footsteps behind him. He turned to find Dean peaking out from the doorway, face uncertain. "Dean!" Cas grinned up at him. "Do you want me to go put something else on for you?" 

"C-Can I stay back here with you?" Dean pleaded. He was looking around the guest room curiously.

"Of course, honey. Do you want some blankets? We can make a little seat for you."

"I... I can help you. I can put stuff away," Dean offered. He sounded like he was begging. Cas paused. He'd read before in some psychology works that victims of trauma and abuse, particularly long-standing situations, needed to feel useful in their new environments when they were rescued. They needed feel like they had a new purpose. It was difficult for them to accept that they were okay and perfect without doing a single thing to prove it. 

"If you'd really like to. You don't have to though. This isn't that big of a job."

Cas knew he was right when he saw Dean's reaction. He was already down on his hands and knees helping to stack folders and pack boxes. Cas's chest gave a little twinge. Dean definitely fit the mold of a healing survivor. He was trying so hard to prove his worth. Cas was determined to show him just how valuable he already was. The question was, how?

Together, they worked in easy silence. Dean was a fast worker and he'd already accomplished more than Cas had in the brief time since his arrival. The room was basically empty now. All the boxes were neatly stacked and filled and the carpet was bare. There were only a few messy piles left, but it was nothing that couldn't be managed. Cas took in the new scene with satisfaction. Yep, a quick vacum job and the room would be prefect and ready for the new furniture. His excitement was growing as he mentally pictured the new space. He only hoped Dean would love it. 

. "We can scoot the boxes out and I'll take them down to the basement later. Let's take a break for now. I believe snacks and drinks are in order." Dean perked up instantly at the promise of more food. Cas grinned. He'd found a love language. They headed back off to the kitchen and he helped Dean clean his dusty hands and face. He braced himself and asked the question he hated. "Dean, do you need a bathroom break?" Dean gave a little jolt and froze. It was such a triggering subject. Cas winced. Still, it was a necessary evil, and judging by how quickly Dean rushed off down the hallway, the question was the right one to ask. He sighed and prayed it wouldn't be too late. Dean had been doing so well this morning. He didn't want all that ruined. He distracted himself by slicing up some apples and cheese. The wait felt unbearably long. 

Finally, Dean made it back. he wasn't waddling with soaking pants and he didn't look on the verge of tears. "Do you need any fresh supplies, De?" Cas couldn't think of any gently way to phrase it. 

Dean looked at him curiously and gave a shy head shake. "I-I'm okay. Made it on time for once."

"I'm so happy to hear that, sweetheart. Let me know. Here, have a plate and I'll get some juice for you." The snack was a welcome change of pace and Dean looked content as he sat crunching his apple slices. Cas set a normal cup in front of him, curious how Dean would respond. It seemed to be the right guess because Dean took the cup with noticeable relief on his weary features. Cas sighed with relief. He wished with all his might he could stop feeling trapped on a sea of eggshells around Dean. He didn't want to mess this up, but every decision felt like a minefield. 

The doorbell chimed and Dean nearly fell out of his chair. "It's Charlie, Dean. She told me she'd be over today with some deliveries from us."

Dean looked curious as he followed Cas to the door. He stayed carefully tucked behind him, his steps hesitant. Cas was happy enough to let Dean use him as a human shield. Whatever made him feel safe. Charlie entered with her usual blast of cheerfulness and enthusiasm. Dean looked stunned at first, but he slowly relaxed as Charlie's familiarity seeped over him. He was still shy, but at least he was smiling now. "Dean! my favorite munchkin!" Dean tucked his head and smiled at the greeting. Charlie was wise not to force a hug, but her warm smile was clearly what Dean needed. 

"Charlie, can you take the bags to the kitchen. We'll go through them there," Castiel prompted. He didn't want Dean getting overwhelmed. He'd give him some time to acclimate to a new person in their house. Charlie took the cue and marched off to the kitchen with arms bulging with bags. She was bursting with excitement over her haul and riding an energy high Castiel was struggling to chase. 

"--I'm having the delivery dudes drop by in an hour or so. Oh, and I sprang for the set-up fees. Figured you wouldn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon with an electric drill." Castiel blushed. He was not a handyman. He was not handy, period. He stammered out a pained thank you. "Yeah, the last time I remember you trying to build something, you stabbed yourself with a screw driver. Didn't that leave a scar?" 

Dean was staring at him was a shy smirk. He looked questioning, but there was no way Cas was sharing his story of the great Screw Driving Debacle, never mind showing his scar. Still, he smiled back at Dean. He was just happy to see Dean smiling, even if it was at his expense. 

Charlie began wading through her purchases. She was nothing if not efficient. The new bottles and sippy cups went into the sink to soak and rinse, the bags of pull-ups, wipes, and diaper were set on the kitchen table for Cas to sort through later. There was no way Dean would be okay going through that now. Charlie was pulling out a small plastic box jubilantly. Cas smiled and accepted it. He was very proud and hopeful for this item. After hearing from Ash and Benny how raw Dean was making his fingers, Cas had brainstormed and performed a quick Google search. The resulting find gave him hope. "I mentioned you might like something to chew or suck on even when you aren't all the way Little," Cas explained gently. "You can use this and it won't be so obvious. It will keep your fingers safer." Dean was eyeing the arrowhead necklace dubiously, but when Castiel unwrapped it and looped it around his neck, the tension in his face seemed to bleed out. He looked relieved. Cas watched him finger the new necklace thoughtfully. He could see the gears whirling in his mind. 

Charlie stole their attention with bags and bags of brand new clothes. Dean looked a little overwhelmed at the sight. Cas made a point to keep most bagged up. He'd fill Dean's closet gradually so as not to overwhelm him. Dean had probably had so little growing up. The idea of dozens and dozens of clothes would stun him. Cas wouldn't make that mistake. 

Charlie was stealing several bags out of the kitchen like bandit, but Dean's was still eyeing her. Cas smirked when he caught sight of what Charlie was hiding. Yep, there were toys of some kind in those bags. He'd hoped to take Dean out himself later on so he could pick out what he liked. He wasn't sure where Dean's interests or age group would lie when it came to picking toys. Part of him hoped Dean would give in and allow himself the simplicity of infant and toddler toys. He wanted Dean to feel safe enough in his headspace to allow himself that freedom. A bigger part of him suspected Dean would choose to gravitate toward more socially-accepted toys. Cars, Legos, robots... He'd have to wait and see. It might be a while before Dean felt secure enough to venture out in public. Whatever Charlie had purchased would have to do for now. 

The doorbell chimed again and Dean looked ready to panic. 

"That will be the delivery guys. They're earlier than I expected. Just as well. Sooner they start the sooner they end and you guys can chill." Charlie was a saint. She was always so in control and calm. Her authority seemed to reassure Dean. She marched to the front and began issuing orders to the deliverymen. Cas followed after and allowed Dean to stick behind him like a timid shadow. The deliverymen went to work hauling boxes to the back guest room. Charlie took lead and went with them to ensure each new object was in the right place. Cas eventually followed. He couldn't help but notice the fear in Dean's eyes at the presence of the men. One of the delivery man glanced over and smiled kindly at Dean's skittish figure. It wasn't a bad smile by any means. It was no different than smiling at a toddler in a grocery cart. Still, Dean was shaky and nervous like a small wild animal. He retreated to the couch and settled into the nest of blankets to wait-out the delivery men from a safe distance. 

Cas sighed painfully at the scene. He hated to question what had happened to give Dean such fear and distrust. He wasn't sure how to fix it. He murmured a reassurance and went to the back to oversee the set-up. He'd check in on him again soon. The set-up went faster than Cas had expected. Perhaps, it was just because he wasn't the one wielding the drill and screwdriver. The men were efficient and professional and it wasn't long before Dean's room took shape. Cas knelt beside the bed to test the new rails. They slid upright and snapped neatly into place with a soft click. They were just high enough to act as a safe crib, but not frightening and cage-like. 

"My Little-un has the same model. Works great for her. No more night-time owies. Used to fall outta bed every time she had a nightmare." Cas smiled up at the delivery man. He was a gruff old codger, but his eyes were warm with understanding. 

"She isn't scared of the bars... not when she's Bigger?" Cas hated how uncertain he sounded. Yep, he sounded like he had no clue what he was doing. 

"Naw, doesn't seem to notice. We went over how to push the release button with her so she could help herself out when she wakes up Big. She seems to like the bars. Said it makes her feel safe."

Charlie knelt down next to Cas and began unpacking the mattress protector. She slid it neatly onto the mattress and quickly tucked the sheets over it. She gave Cas a sad side-eye and he nodded back. He was glad for the solidarity. 

There was a low whistle across the room as the other delivery man finished sliding the last wooden drawer into the new sensory table. "Man! I've never seen a table as big as this. Lucky Little lives here," he remarked with a grin. Castiel smiled back, feeling a touch proud that he could give Dean this. The men finished up and gathered their tools. They headed out and Cas and Charlie hurried to put several finishing touches in place before Dean came back. It wasn't perfect and Cas knew he still had cleaning and final details to set up. Still, he was satisfied. Dean wouldn't be sleeping out in the living room tonight. 

Charlie was setting up the mobile as Cas unloaded several boxes of books for the new bookshelf. Charlie had found some great titles while she'd been out. _Goodnight, Moon, Beatrix Potter, The Vegetables go to Sleep_... Cas smiled fondly at the familiar names. He couldn't wait to read these to Dean. He smirked to himself. She'd even managed to find a _Curious George_ book!

A shy, hesitant face was at the doorway peering inside. Cas set the book down and smiled back at Dean. The Little was staring stunned and practically open-mouthed into the room. He was entranced by the familiar rectangular table across the room. He stepped inside. 

"I asked Ash for the brand he used at Missouri's for his therapy sessions. He recommended this one." Cas stepped toward him and began pulling the little drawers out. They were empty for now, but he was determined to get them filled up with plenty of toys for Dean to experiment with.

"You got a sensory table?" Dean's voice sounded almost hoarse with disbelief. 

"You can still continue therapy with Ash and Garth at Missouri's. We'll set up a few days a week. I thought this table would be helpful here though. You can play with it as much as you'd like. Charlie got an assortment of toys that go with it. We can experiment with it and see which you like most."

Dean was speechless. 

Dean? Honey, are you okay?"

Crap, he'd broken him! Cas was about to panic at the stunned daze that had fallen over Dean. Then, Dean was suddenly in his arms, hugging him tight and sobbing into his shirt. Cas's panic began to grow, but then he realized the tears weren't sad ones. They were full of emotion, but not necessarily bad emotion. Dean was venting, but he was also healing. 

"Oh, Dean," he murmured into his hair. "It's okay, honey."

Cautiously, he took the arrowhead necklace that was resting on Dean's chest he slipped it up toward his mouth. He hesitated, but then he accepted the firm rubber into his mouth and began to suck and gum at it. He seemed to relax after that and the tears slowed. Cas stayed down at Dean's side, hugging him and rocking him. He was in no hurry. He'd stay like this for as long as Dean wanted. 

Charlie was at the doorway behind them. Cas hadn't even seen her leave the first time. She was smiling softly down at them. "I have hot chocolate in the living room. Also, screw your electricity bill, Cas. I cranked the fireplace on too. We're having s'mores." With that, she excused herself to let Cas and Dean have a moment to finish settling. 

"Dean?" Cas murmured. Dean hesitated and seemed uncertain of where to look. "I-I haven't upset you have I? This isn't too much?"

Dean snorted. "Too much?" he croaked. "You did all this for me. I don't even know what to say?" Cas frowned, clearly worried. 

"What... what if I ruin it?" Dean finally whispered. 

"Dean, you could never ruin anything."

And oh, if that wasn't enough to finish shattering Cas's heart. Dean really thought that of himself? That he was just waiting to ruin whatever good finally came into his life? Cas's hand squeezed his. In that moment, a load seemed to slip from Dean's shoulders. Cas hugged him close and snuggled a small kiss on his forehead. He helped him stand and, together, they made their way to the living room. Charlie greeted them with blankets and pillows. She tucked Dean into a nest of pillows in front of the fireplace and passed him a shiny metal skewer with a marshmallow ready and waiting. Dean looked enthralled by the glowing embers. He eagerly extended his skewer and grinned at the marshmallow as it changed colors and went soft and gooey. 

Cas held a skewer of his own, but he really didn't care to watch it. He was far too happy to watch the Little beside him. 

* * *

Gabe sat back in his chair and stared at the computer screen. He wiggled his jaw pensively and listened to the responding crack. He leaned forward and began to type. He wanted to re-do the test. He wanted a do-over. He wanted a different answer. He knew Dean wasn't going to like the answer he had. He knew Cas definitely would like it either. It didn't change the test results that were staring back at him from his computer screen. 

He pressed a contact thumbnail on his phone and waited for the answer. 

"You do realize what time it is, mate?"

Gabe smirked hollowly. In the background of the phone call, a cacophony of jeering, laughter, and whoops filled his ears. There was music playing and he was pretty sure he heard several voices moaning. 

"You aren't sleeping, Bal. Don't pull that crap with me."

Someone gave a loud sigh and Bal shushed her. 

"I never said I was sleeping."

"How could you with all that noise?"

"Don't get pert with me. You know as well as I do that professionals of my caliber deserve our vices. I've earned them and I won't be made to feel sorry for what I enjoy."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

"Listen, I don't care what club you're in or who you're doing. I need help with something. Something medical. I have a Little that is in bad shape."

That sobered Balthasar up. The background noise abruptly faded. Gabe pictured Balthasar quickly excusing himself from the club and stepping out in a stairwell. As risqu'e and indulgent as the neurologist was, he was nothing if not professional and dedicated when it came to patients. 

"Give me an SBAR," Bal ordered. 

Gabe rattled off a quick and somewhat anonymous summary of Dean's situation, culminating with the test results that had made him worry the most. 

"His 5-HTP is that low? You're certain the test results haven't been skewed?"

"I don't want to be, but his behavior is evidence enough. If you'd assessed himself, you probably wouldn't have even ordered the test. His headspacing is extremely unbalanced. Fragile."

There was a heavy pause. 

"What are your recommendations? You've been practicing nearly as long as me."

"I already have him in a safe, secure environment. He's with Castiel getting care full-time. I thought the security would go a long way toward stabilizing him."

"If his 5-HTP is that low, no amount of security will be enough to fully correct the imbalance. Until his hormones and biochemistry regulate, he will continue to have fluctuating and unpredictable head-spacing."

"Is there a still a chance he could lose his Big space?"

"Yes, I'm honestly surprised he hasn't already. I've witnessed Littles lose theirs after far less trauma than what you've said this patient has gone through. I'm surprised he's even functioning."

"He's made of tough stuff," Gabe murmured with a wry smile. 

"You called for my professional recommendations," Bal began. "I'm giving them." 

Gabe scrambled for a pen and pad. He was writing this down. 

" _Liteura_ and _Uptra_ in carefully titrated doses. Get a PICC line in him and do weekly infusions. He should be on a 3-day Little to 4-day Big schedule. I'll send you the titration formulary I've used if you'd like."

"He has a history of nonconsensual drug usage," Gabriel finally gritted out. "He's terrified of medication. He had a very extreme response the last time someone tried drugging him."

Bal was quiet. "I understand this will be very difficult for him, but if he wants to keep his Big space and adult cognition, he'll need to bite the bloody bullet and let someone take control for him. He's with safe people now. If there's anyone that won't abuse that responsibility, it's your brother. Bleeding saint Castiel."

Gabriel was quiet. He tried to picture Dean agreeing to medication regimen. He didn't want to picture the conversation that would have to be had. 

"Send me the formulary, please. I'll run it by Cas and see what he says."

Bal gave a snort. "It doesn't matter what he says. Get that Little some help! I'm bloody well sick and tired of seeing Little's lose entire portions of their personality because they were too traumatized to heal but too terrified of treatment. Patient let us pump them full of chemo and radiation to rid them of cancer. But even then, people still don't seem to realize that most of medicine is piss-poor treatment options because we're desperate for cures. It's not fun, but it sodding works."

Someone called Balthasar's name in the background. Gabriel couldn't tell if it was male or female. Bal didn't seem to care. 

"Call me back, Gabe. I'd like updates. I'll email you that titration schedule as soon as I pop home." There was a definitive click and the line went dead. 

Gabe sat at his desk and stared. He wasn't a fan of the conversation he'd just had. If he didn't know Bal and trust his work and reputation so intrinsically, he'd be inclined to write the entire advice off and try something different. He knew Bal's track record though. He'd seen him bring Little's back from the brink. He trusted Bal. He'd wanted to be Bal when he grew up. To have the kind of patient track record he did. He was still so green in so many ways compared to the older doctor. 

Gabe opened up a new word document and began typing. He'd call Cas in the morning with the tentative plan. Until then, he'd plan everything out that he could. He'd make this as safe and comfortable as possible. Anything to help put both Dean and Cas at more ease. This had to work. 

Gabe looked back at the lab results on his screen. 

Dean was running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes because I'm a NeRD...
> 
> 5-HTP -- it's a biomolecule (amino acid) that is used to form a neurotransmitter known as serotonin (also known as the happy chemical). It's responsible for a lot of things such as mood, sleep cycles, energy, and even digestion. It's plays a huge role in the presence of certain mood disorders such as depression and anxiety if there is not enough. It's also been linked to things like insomnia, weight gain, and eating. It is *not* proven at all to be part of the Little/Big 'verse (obviously this is fiction), but I'm exercising my creative liberties to use it as such because it's such a common neurotransmitter. In this verse, it will play a role in the regulation of Big and Little headspaces. 
> 
> Attachment styles--https://www.verywellmind.com/attachment-styles-2795344
> 
> SBAR -- a brief and precise way of communicating a patient's Situation, Background, Assessment, and Recommendation to another health professional. When two medical personal are talking about a new or current patient, we start by explaining the patient's identity and current situation (usually an emergency or need), then going into the immediate background (i.e. when did the issue start? What happened before?). Next Any current assessment findings are discussed (physical symptoms, labs, test results, etc.) Finally, one medical professional will describe what they thing needs to happen next (Recommendation).
> 
> PICC -- Similar to an IV, but for longer, and more intense treatment. Unlike an IV that only goes into a peripheral vein in the hand or arm, a PICC or "Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter," goes much deeper. It's a long, flexible tube that's inserted in the upper arm usually, but the end goes up further along a larger vein that's nearer the heart. It's designed to stay in much longer and handle medication and IV nutrition that is normally too harsh on the veins. It's also great for patient's that have to have frequent bloodwork and IV mediation. It means less needle pokes and less chance of the IV becoming infected or "infiltrating" (the vein ruptures and the IV fluids leak into the tissues). In Dean's case, Bal is suggesting the PICC because frequent and scheduled IV treatment is best if a PICC is used. It's HARD to gain access to veins over and over again! It's easiest to have one PICC line that's ready and available every time. PICC's may sound scary, but it's a relatively simple process to insert one by a trained RN or doctor and it's much less traumatizing to patient's than having to get an IV over and over again. 
> 
> Disclaimer... Dean *will not* be getting medical treatment against his will. Just throwing that out there. Rest assured, dear readers <3


	17. Chapter 17

Dean couldn't make up his mind. 

It was frustrating how paralyzed decisions made him. To make matters worse, this shouldn't even be that big of a decision. It shouldn't be a big issue deciding which sensory toy he wanted to play with. He pulled out each of the five drawers for the hundredth time and peered inside each one long and deliberately. He made a mental list of all his options once again:

Colorful, fluffy pom poms. 

Squishy sea creatures (including starfish!)

Farm animals that made sounds when you squished them. There was even a pop-up bright red barn!

Bouncing rubber planets with sparkly stars.

Magnetic sand and tiny dump trucks and a tiny shovel and rake. 

It was so hard!!! Dean nibbled his bottom lip and wished Cas was there to help him pick. He always had a way of making things not so hard and icky. He made the bad feeling go away. Dean crossed his legs and squirmed on his soft and fuzzy bumblebee cushion Cas got him. He almost didn't notice the soft, crinkling feeling on his bottom. The diapers Cas got him were softer with more padding than before and not so scratchy. Dean scowled at his empty bedroom. He wanted Cas to come play with him!

Cas was in his bedroom on the phone. He'd helped Dean get clean all the sticky syrup off his face and hands after their breakfast of waffles. They'd gone in Dean's room and started looking at all the cool new toys, but then Cas had looked at his phone and gotten all quiet and scary. He had an ick look on his face and told Dean he had to go talk to someone. He'd promised he be back though! He'd promised! 

Dean's ick feeling in his chest was growing worse. He heard himself whine and he wished he had one of Cas's hugs right then. On impulse he ripped off the lid to his sand and dumped it on the table. He dug his fingers into the cool pile and squeezed super super hard. It felt really good. He kept them buried and enjoyed the cool squishiness in his hot hands. It made some of the ick feeling go away. 

"Dean? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Dean looked up at Cas and felt his lip wobble. He was trying hard not to cry. He wanted to be a big boy today!

"Oh, Dean." Cas sat down beside him and crossed his legs. "Come here, honey." Dean whined into Cas's warm chest, but kept his hands buried in the sand. The combination of sensations--the cool, squishy sand and Cas's warm, mint-smelling t-shirt--were the perfect blend. The ick feeling was quickly fading as Dean luxuriated in the new blend of of sensations and smells. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to be on the phone so long. I should have waited. I'm back, though. Let's play. You want me to get some of your new trucks out? Look, here's little green one!"

Dean peaked up from Cas's shirt and watched the new truck roll across the table top. It made a soft beeping noise as it rolled. Dean grinned and reached for it eagerly. Cas was back. The ick feeling was gone. And they were finally ready to play!

*****

Cas watched Dean carefully as he began to play with his new trucks and sand. He was quickly calming down and enjoying the distraction of his new toys. He was even humming softly to himself as he rolled his green truck back and forth, giggling at the tiny beeping noise it made. Cas sighed with relief, but guilt still stung him. He hadn't meant to abandon Dean or worry him. He hadn't intended to be on the phone so long. He'd seen the text from Gabriel and everything else had stopped. 

He thought back to his brother's grim news and his stomach churned. Even with all the work they'd done, Dean was still at so much risk. What if it was already too late? What if he was already losing his Big space? What would that be like? A Dean that could only be Little or awkwardly trapped In-Between? How miserable would he feel?

Dean gave a giggle as he crashed his truck into a pile of sand. Cas smiled wanly. He loved seeing Dean play. It was so rare and precious to watch him acting Little with no real cares or anxiety. Big Dean was never like that. 

The thought made Cas's thoughts jerk to an abrupt halt. He felt sick. Was he seriously considering robbing Dean of an entire headspace? If it meant Dean was safe and happier, would that justify it? Big Dean may never recover. At least Little Dean could distract himself with play and enjoy being taken care of and doted on. He still had sensory issues and anxiety, but he was handling it better than Big Dean ever did. 

Cas swallowed really hard. He couldn't force back the disgust he suddenly felt for himself. Dean trusted him to care for him and look after his best interests. This should be Dean's choice not his. Dean would never agree to go on medication though. He'd never allow a PICC line placed in his body or IV medications pumped into him every day. He'd never agree to medication-induced headspaces. If he stayed Little, maybe with time, he'd forget most of the horror his biological father had put him through. He could have a new childhood he'd never had.

It was still Dean's choice though. That much was clear to Cas. It didn't matter what Gabe and Bal said. He wouldn't force something this big and life-altering on Dean. 

"Cassy, play!" Dean was extending a red truck to Cas with bright, happy eyes. Cas accepted the offering with a smile he didn't feel and began loading the truck up with sand. Together, he and Dean rolled their trucks across the table and dumped the sand in an ever-growing pile. Dean was up on his knees, rocking slightly as he played. Cas noticed the arrow-head necklace was in his mouth bobbing slightly as Dean gummed it. He looked so utterly carefree and content. Cas started loading his truck up with more sand. For now, he'd just enjoy this moment. 

****

Dean lay on his back, legs in the air, playing with his feets. He reached for his kitty sock and tried grabbing for the soft pink ears on top. He loved his kitty socks! Cas was leaning over him rubbing his belly with one hand. "Let's get you nice and clean, Dean-bean." Dean giggled. He like Cassy's names. He unsnapped his bottoms and wiggled his soft pants off. Dean didn't like it when he felt his diaper come un-taped. Cool air hit his bottom and he tried to squirm away and close his legs super duper tight. Cassy kept him still though. He was humming like Dean liked and rubbing his belly. "It's okay, honey. Just getting you nice and clean. I'll be done soon. I promise." Dean whined at the touch of the wipes, but Cassy was fast and he had a soft, warm diaper up on his bottom. His pants were wiggled back up and Cas was snapping all the buttons closed. 

"Good brave boy! All done," Cas cheered. Dean wiggled back up and smiled shyly. He liked it when he was good and brave. Cassy always told him he was. Dean started crawling back over to his table. He stopped to put his arrow in his mouth. He sucked hard and enjoyed the squishiness against his teeth. He looked back. Cassy wasn't watching him. He was on his phone again. His face was all wrong and ick-looking. Dean scowled and felt cold fear squirming inside him. Cassy looked worried. He didn't like Cassy's phone. 

Cas looked up and gave an odd smile Dean didn't like. It looked wrong somehow. Cassy put the phone in his pocket and went to Dean's side. "What would you like to play with next, sweetie?" Dean felt the ick feeling in his belly. He wasn't sure he wanted to play anymore. 

"Look, your fishies are super cool. Let's clean up your sand and we can try these. I have blue squishy beads we can add for the water."

Dean crossed his arms and pouted. He didn't want to look at Cassy. He was being weird. 

Cas started cleaning up the sand and shoveling it back into the bin. Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye and refused to help. Cas finished cleaning up the trucks and then he dumped a pile of blue squishy looking beads on the table. Dean felt his interest pique in spite of himself. The beads were shiny and wet looking and they reminded him of bubbly water. He leaned closer as Cas added the box of fishies to the table. 

"I hope this shark doesn't like Dean fingers!"

Dean giggled as Cas swam the shark through the beads. Cassy gave a growl and Dean giggled sharply as the shark swam too close to his fingers. It bumped his hand and he jerked away quickly. The shark swam away but it was already circling back. Dean shrieked and batted the shark away again. Cassy was laughing and passing the shark to Dean. He watched him pick up a soft-looking pink starfish. Dean clutched the shark but his eyes were on the starfish. 

"Do you know what starfish love the best?" Cassy asked him. Dean shook his head, curious. "Kisses." The starfish was at his cheek giving a loud smooching sound. Dean giggled and leaned his cheek into the soft foam. He smacked his lips back. Cas was laughing and going in for another kiss. 

Dean forgot all about Cassy's phone. He wanted more starfishy kisses!

* * *

"Cas, I'm going to keep calling until I get an answer. You can't keep ignoring your phone or giving half-assed answers!" Gabe barked. His receptionist Lia was at her desk across from him staring worriedly. He ignored her. 

"Gabe." There was a long, heavy sigh on the end of the line. "I can't give an answer yet. Dean isn't Big enough to talk about this yet."

"He doesn't have to be Big."

"He's been In-Betweening and Little all day. We've been playing. I can't just drop this bomb on him. He probably wouldn't even understand."

"He may not even have the capacity to understand anymore. He may already have suffered irreparable psychological damage. He hasn't been well since he left Missouri's. At least before he could come up long enough to have medical discussions with you. I remember you telling me that he could understanding his infection and eating issues. He hasn't seemed mentally competent since he's come to live with you."

"He's competent!"

"Now, I'm not calling you for a shouting match, brother dearest. You can't get mad at me for suggesting that your Little has lost his ability to competently consent to his medical care. If he can't understand, that's not his fault." Gabe paused. "But it shouldn't be the thing standing in the way of him getting the care he so badly needs. He needs someone that's willing to make decisions for him--no matter how hard they may be."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Gabriel started to fear Cas had actually hung up on him. Then there was a soft, broken sigh. 

"Gabe, he was scared earlier when I was on the phone with you. I came back and he was moments away from panicking. He knows something is going on, and it's terrifying him."

"All the more reason to start the process. If he can get Big again with the _Uptra_ infusions, we can actually have a cognizant discussion about the care he needs. He'll be able to understand. He can't now."

"Let me try something. I want to wait a day or so... see if he comes back up Big again. If he does I'll talk with him."

"If he doesn't?" Gabriel pressed. "I already showed you the test results. You know how bad it's gotten."

"If he stays Little or In-Between... I'll try something else. I'll figure out another way to talk to him." Cas sounded almost desperate. It was a far cry from the calm, methodical personality that usually shined through. "Dean's had all his autonomy and control stripped away. He needs to be able to make this decision himself."

"Cas, I'm giving you two days. Dean can't wait any longer than that. Please, you know I'm not trying to be the bad guy here. I can't stand by and watch Dean suffer."

"I said I'd figure it out!" Cas yelled. The phone went dead and Gabe closed his eyes. He dropped his cellphone on his desk and rubbed his aching forehead. 

* * *

Cas did his best to push the conversation with Gabriel out of his mind the rest of the day. He painted on a smile and worked his hardest to give Dean a good, relaxing day. They played with the sensory table some more and Dean tried out the remainder of his toys. The barn animal toys were a special favorite. Dean kept the squishy cow in his mouth most of the time. He'd love squishing the tiny chickens and making them cluck and crow. Cas took in the scene with a warm, full chest. Dean had never played like this before. He looked like he was fully in his element. 

They made it through another diaper change and Dean seemed less and less traumatized by the act of getting cleaned up and re-diapered. He batted at his foot and giggled through Castiel's raspberries and tummy tickles. They snuggled on the couch and watched some Curious George. Dean was moments away from drifting off, his head tucked into Cas's lap. He had a thumb in his mouth which Cas gently removed and replaced with his arrowhead. Dean's eyes fluttered, but he stayed quiet and sleeping. He gave a little suck at the arrowhead and sighed in contentment. Cas stared down at him and smiled. He wished he could freeze this moment and box it away for later. He never wanted to lose it and he couldn't quite bring himself to bundle Dean off to his own bed for the nap. Dean could stay where he was. Cas was in no hurry to move him. 

He thought back to the conversation he'd been trying so hard to forget. Playing with Dean had been the perfect distraction, but now that things were quiet and still, he couldn't keep the cold, unsettling thoughts away. 

He pried his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Charlie's thumbnail. He rattled off what probably sounded like a hysterical summary of Gabriel's earlier conversation. He eyed the massive text block guiltily. Charlie had better things to do than listen to his panicking. She and Gabe were literally keeping his whole practice afloat while he took time off. She was working so he could stay home with Dean. She didn't deserve this. 

Her response was almost immediate and filled with more exclamation points and question marks than Cas could count: **"What's he going to do????!!!!? He has a plan right??? :( He knows how to fix this and get Dean better????! He BETTER!"**

Cas smiled wanly. How he loved this fiery and emotion-packed woman. She was his best friend. She'd been there almost right from the beginning. 

**"He wants to put a PICC in Dean for long-term IV therapy. Said he needs medication or he will never recover... lose Big space."**

And there is was, the bare terrifying truth of the matter. 

**"What's Dean say? He hates meds! :'( "**

**"Haven't told him. He's Little and In-Betweening. Not sure he'd understand."** Cas hesitated, feeling sick. **"Even if he was Big, he'd never agree to the plan. He's terrified of medication. It's been used against him too many times."**

 **"What about Garth?"** Charlie shot back quickly. **"He's super good with explaining hard topics. He's talked a lot of Littles through really traumatizing things. Dean liked him already. He might have some ideas for you even if he doesn't speak to Dean directly."**

Huh. Cas frowned pensively. He should have thought of this before. He shot back a 'thank you' and quickly pulled up Garth's contact. Carefully and slowly, he managed to maneuver Dean's head off his lap and get him snuggled on the couch with an afghan. He crept down the hall to his bedroom and cracked the door before he dared calling Garth. 

The man answered on the second ring with a jubilant "Wassap!"

Cas smirked and shook his head at the man's antics. It didn't surprise him that Dean liked the therapist so much. 

"I need you help," he blurted out without thinking. He knew he sounded desperate but he didn't care. He was desperate. Desperate not to steal the last thread of autonomy and freedom from Dean. 

Garth listened patiently through the entire conversation, only occasionally stopping Cas to clarify details. When Cas reached the end of the summary, there was a long pause. Cas gulped. Garth had to have ideas!

"I'm gonna shoot straight with you," Garth finally admitted. "This isn't a good situation. It's hard and upsetting no matter what angle you look at it." Cas's heart sunk. This sounded bad. Garth went on. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I'll give you some ideas of what I would do." Cas inhaled slowly to steady himself. 

"Please," he said. "I just want to help Dean. I don't want to force something on him that he'll hate."

"I know it. I don't like the idea of forcing medication on Dean either. I do understand that this is a bit of an emergency though. Sometimes compromises have to be made." Garth gave a heavy sigh. "I had a Little about two years ago. I was seeing her as an outpatient and she had a great family. Mommy and Daddy that loved her like crazy. She was diagnosed with Leukemia and basically shut down in fear. She was terrified of doctors and hospitals and refused the chemo. Her family was frantic. It was a very treatable form of cancer, but it was killing her because she was refusing treatment. Too scared."

Cas shuddered. He couldn't imagine how Dean would cope with something as traumatic as cancer. Then again, what he had felt just as bad sometimes. The story felt eerily similar. 

"Her family brought her to me, desperate that I convince her bite the bullet and take the chemo," Garth continued. "I didn't. I listened to her. Listened to how scared she was and how much she didn't want it. It was good. She needed to vent. I got some picture books that were written for children with chronic and terminal illness. They go over stuff like IVs and medication and hospital stays. We even practiced on one of my teddy bears. Gave it medicine and a little IV. Listened to its heart and put about a hundred bandaids all over it."

"Did it work?" Cas's voice sounded dry and hoarse, like the life had been sucked from him. He felt sick and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the end of this story. 

"In a way," Garth answered carefully. "She agreed to start chemo. I even went with her the first few times while they got the chemo ports set up and gave her the first dose. It was hard, but she stuck it out. She went into remission about 9 months later."

"How do I help Dean? I want to let him choose. I don't know how to help him understand though."

"I'll bring over the books I used. You have your own medical equipment I'm guessing. Let him look at it. Play with it." Garth gave a meaningful pause. "You know what really helped the Little girl I told you about?" Cas listened, breath bated in anticipation. "I listened to her. I listened to her fears. That's what she needed the most."

* * *

"Story time, honey bee!" Dean smiled up shyly at Cas as he settled down beside him on the couch. He was warm and sleepy from his bath and his tummy was full. He'd eaten a good dinner of chicken tenders and carrots. Cas had given him a warm, sweetened bottle afterward. He felt soft and cozy and Cas smelled especially good. He snuffled his face into the warm chest and wiggled his feets. They were all warm and cozy in his froggy sleeper. Cas tucked a blanket over him and picked up a book. Dean frowned. He didn't recognize this book. He looked around. He'd wanted the vegetable one Cas had read the night before. He'd liked seeing all the vegetables getting ready for bed and falling asleep in their cozy garden. 

"Veg'able's sleep?" he lisped out sleepily. Cas smiled at the request. 

"Right after this book if you're still not too sleepy. This is a brand new book." Dean's interest was piqued. The little boy on the front cover was smiling and happy but he was holding a tall metal pole beside him. Dean frowned, confused. What was this book about? Cas opened the first page and began. 

"Once there was a little boy named Tommy. He felt very tired and icky all the time." 

Dean squirmed slightly at the first page. Tommy did look very tired and ick. His face was green and he was curled up in bed with his puppy sleeping. Dean's chest ached. He'd felt like Tommy before. He knew what it was like to feel ick and have owies that didn't get better. 

"Tommy went to the doctor a lot and each time they tried to help him get better. They gave lots of medicine and pokes, but nothing worked."

Dean leaned closer to the page, riveted. He was just like Tommy! He frowned at the scary-looking shots poking Tommy's arms. He looked scared and sad and Dean wished he could hug him. Tommy should have someone like Cas! Cas would have taken great care of Tommy!

"One day, the doctor told Tommy there was a special kind of medicine that would really help him. There was no way to get it inside Tommy though. The medicine was very very special and needed a special way inside so it could work. The doctor told Tommy there was a special tube they could use to help the medicine inside. It would go in his arm and stay there for as long as he needed it. No more owies or pokes! The best part of all, the medicine could go anywhere Tommy did."

Dean stared long and hard at the colorful page. Tommy had a small looking tube in his arm. It led up to the shiny metal pole that had a bag of something blue hanging from it. It looked like something that would hurt really bad, but Tommy was still smiling His face didn't look green and ick anymore. 

"Tommy loved his new pole very very much. It kept his medicine safe and rolled with him wherever he went. He decided to name the pole Oscar. Oscar took great care of him and kept his medicine safe up high. One day, when Tommy is all better, he can have the special medicine tube taken out. Until then, he can have the special medicine whenever he needs it. It helps him feel good and keeps him safe."

Dean was still staring silently even after Cas closed the book. He was sitting very quietly, the book on his lap. 

"Ready for The Vegetables go to Sleep?" Cas asked. His voice sounded funny. Soft and wet like he was upset but trying to hide it. Dean's belly went squirmy. He couldn't get the story of Tommy out of his head. He'd never thought of another boy going through what he had. He knew he wasn't all the way Little, but he still felt as young as Tommy. Tommy was braver than him though. 

"Tommy again?" Dean asked. Cas looked down at him, clearly surprised. He gave a funny smile Dean didn't understand, but opened the book and started from the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes:
> 
> "Competency" and "consent:" When a patient needs to have a procedure performed or treatment given, they must first give their consent. It involves a doctor explaining both the pros and cons of the treatment/medication and allowing the patient to ask any questions. Consent is not considered "given" if the patient is not fully informed or they still have questions. Often, a form is signed stating they understand the risks and benefits and have no further questions. If a patient is in an emergency situation, alone, and/or unconscious, consent is not always obtained. Sometimes doctors have to act right away to save the patient. In cases like this, family or a patient-designated "power of attorney" gives permission for the patient. This is also the case for patients that may have intellectual disabilities or mental issues that keep them from being able to understand treatment. Their family or a caregiver has to speak up on their behalf to get them the care they need. It gets tricky in terms of medical ethics if a patient has to be proven "incompetent." Doctors want patients making their own decisions, but if a patient is suspected of not being able to for some reason, a hospital board of ethics, social workers, and other medical professionals have to go through a very strict process of proving why the patient is unable. It's a very sad and difficult situation. :(
> 
> *There are so so many great resources for helping explain medical conditions and procedures to children! Hospitals have professionals known as "child life specialists" that are literally heroes! They have special training that allows them to work with children of any age group to help them learn and cope about medical issues such as getting an IV for the first time, getting feeding tubes, PICCS, or even surgery. They often use toys, story telling, and role-play to help children understand what's happening in a safe and secure way. If things are explained well beforehand, many children are able to cope with medical conditions and treatments far better and come out less traumatized. On pediatric hospital units, child life specialists are awesome awesome resources for doctors and nurses. They are in high demand and I wish there were more of them. Here are some great links :)
> 
> https://healthblog.uofmhealth.org/childrens-health/10-great-childrens-books-for-talking-about-surgery-sickness-and-feelings
> 
> https://www.doinggoodtogether.org/bhf-book-lists/illness-picture-books
> 
> Child-life specialist:  
> https://youtu.be/AjRrAod36HU
> 
> https://www.childlife.org/the-child-life-profession


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's treatment plan finally progresses amid bumps and bruises along the way. Cas and Gabe team up, and Dean gets a sick buddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The earlier portion of this chapter mentions some past non-explicit sexual abuse. No overt details are given but Dean finally admits that John let some unnamed adults touch and hurt him when he was in his Little space. I wanted to be sure to warn everyone even though it's non-explicit. Read carefully and feel free to skip to the second half of this chapter if you don't feel comfortable. Also, this chapter does contain non-graphic medical procedures. *Nothing* in non-consensual but take care, dear readers. You know your reading limits <3
> 
> A very special thanks to angelsil99 for translating this story into Spanish. The link is in the description. They even included some lovely headers! :3

Cas settled the brown teddy bear on the coffee table and stared at it intently. The dark, glassy eyes peered back at him blankly, offering no help. Cas sighed a deep, bone-weary sigh and reached to adjust the IV neatly taped to one of the furry arms. It looked odd and out of place, but Cas was desperate. He'd taken Garth's suggestion and performed an IV insertion on a teddy bear Charlie had purchased the other day during her shopping haul. He only hoped it would trigger even a shred of understanding and cooperation in Dean even if he remained trapped in Little space.

"H-Hurt?" 

Cas stiffened at the soft, hesitant voice behind him. He whirled around and found Dean standing just behind the couch, thumb tucked in his mouth worriedly. He must have just woken from his nap. His legs were bowed slightly and Cas could only imagine how full and soggy his diaper must feel. He needed to get him changed soon. Still, Dean looked so soft and sleepy, hair mussed and eyes bleary. They were squinted in concern as he peered hard at the teddy bear. Cas gulped hard and tried to still his hammering heart. This was his chance. This could be the only moment he had to try and help Dean understand what was happening. He needed to help him see the danger he was in with every passing day. He needed to get even a semblance of permission and cooperation from Dean. If he couldn't get his permission... Cas's mind spun. Did he have the mental resolve to make the choice himself. To force Dean to confront his biggest fears without his cooperation? It made him sick. 

"Dean," he began carefully. His voice sounded wet. "You're right. Honey, this teddy is hurt. His head is hurt and he's having a lot of trouble right now."

"Owies?"

"Yes, De, he's had owies for a long time. No one's been able to help him. He's been very scared and hasn't let anyone."

Dean crept closer, hunching down until he was kneeling clumsily in front of the table almost eye level with the toy. "H-Help?" he croaked. He rubbed a hand against his eyes hard. Cas didn't miss the flash of confusion and pain that etched across Dean's features. Was he in pain? "Help Teddy?" Dean repeated.

"Yes, Dean, I want to help Teddy." Cas paused, measuring his words. "Dean, Teddy is very scared though. Some bad bad people hurt him for a long time. He's scared of help." 

Dean was very quiet. He knelt in front of the bear and just stared. Cas could hear the kitchen clock ticking from where he sat on the couch. He stared to doubt Dean would say anything else. This plan wasn't working. All it seemed to do was confuse and upset Dean further. 

"Help him, pwease?"

"I want to, but he's too scared. He won't let me."

"I help."

"You want to help him, sweetie?"

"Hold hands." Dean took the bear's paw in his own. His eyes were fixed on the other paw with the IV that trailed free. 

Cas sat and just stared. He felt his eyes growing warm and moist at the sight before him. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Dean stiffened suddenly and winced. He rubbed at his eyes again, this time with a grimace. He was in pain, Cas realized with a jolt. Definite pain. 

"C-Cas?" he croaked. He gritted his teeth and turned to look at him. Cas's heart finished breaking. Dean looked so sick. "Hurts. m' head really hurts."

"Dean, are you big right now?" Cas asked quickly. He saw his tiny window of opportunity. If Dean was Big he couldn't waste this moment. It might be his last. 

"N-Not all the way," Dean gasped. "Bigger though."

"Dean, I need to talk to you very quickly. I'm sorry to rush, but I need to talk to you while you're still able to understand." Dean's eyes went big, scared, as he heard the urgency in Cas's voice. 

"Am-am I dying?" he blurted out, voice hitching. 

Cas's mouth dropped. "No, Dean, why would you think that?"

"Y-You're so scared," Dean whispered. "You're looking at me funny. And this..." he gestured to the bear. Dean crept closer until he was pressed up close against Dean's knees. "'m scared."

"Oh, honey, no. It's not like that." Cas pulled him closer until Dean was pressed up against his side on the couch. Dean wiggled closer, burring his face in Cas's chest. "Baby, I need you to stay Big as long as you can. I'm sorry. I know you're hurting. Just listen as carefully as you can, okay?"

Dean gave a jerky nod that Cas felt rather than saw. 

"You've been staying Little and in-betweening too much, sweetie. It's not healthy. The longer you stay in one headspace, the more at risk you are of losing your other one. Stress and trauma can cause it. You're losing your Big space, Dean. You're having trouble coming back up. Eventually... you may not be able to at all."

Dean went very very quiet. Cas began to fear he wouldn't answer.

"Good." 

The single word was an ax to Cas's chest. 

"Dean?"

"Don't want to be Big. Not anymore." Hot moisture was seeping into Cas's shirt from where Dean had his face plastered into his side. 

"Dean, honey, you can't mean that. Not really." Cas cuddled him close, rocking slightly. He felt like he was floundering, moments away from going under the waves.

Dean looked up, eyes red and puffy. His lip was quivering. "If I'm Big I can't stay with you!" Dean suddenly burst. "You take care of me when I'm Little. If I get Big I won't have to stay. Don't want to leave!" Dean dove back into Cas's side, shoulders quivering with muffled sobs.

Cas hugged him tight and kissed his sweat-tacky hair. Oh, how he loved this sad, stubborn boy. How could he finally make him see it?

"Dean," he gently pried Dean's face from where it was hiding. He held him until he met Dean's shifty, scared eyes. "Sweetie, I want you to listen to me very very carefully. Can you do that for me, little bee?" Dean swallowed hard, a thumb creeping toward his mouth. Cas intercepted it and placed Dean's arrow head in his mouth instead. 

"Dean, I want you here with me regardless if you're Big, Little, or anything else. You're... you're just you, Dean, and nothing is going to change that for me. I want..." Cas paused, swallowing hard. There would be no coming back from what he was about to say. "Dean, I want to be your family. For better or worse. I want to be yours. I want you to stay. Forever--even if you get better." Dean's eyes went very wide, almost unblinking. He stared back at Cas in a sort of disbelieving awe. 

"R-Really?" Dean finally whispered. "You're serious?"

"I meant every word," Cas promised, tucking him close. He rested his chin on Dean's head and pressed a soft kiss on top. Dean gave a soft sound, almost like a sigh of relief into Cas's chest. Cas smiled, relief ebbing within him. He'd wanted to say those words for so long--to share his desire with Dean. It had never felt exactly right before. He wasn't sure if this wasn't even the right time, but now that the words were out, nothing but relief filled him. Judging by Dean's immediate reaction, the Little was just as relieved. 

"Dean, honey, I need you to stay Big for just a little longer, 'kay?" Dean stiffened slightly in his grasp but looked up obediently. He looked exhausted. "Dean, I love you Big or Little, but right now, it's dangerous that you aren't able to stay Big. It will affect everything about you--you're physical health, emotional, mental..." Cas steeled himself. "I can't force you, but I really want to help you. My brother, Gabriel has a treatment that will help you balance your headspaces. The chemicals that control your headspaces are dangerously out of balance. I want to help you fix them so you can have a normal life--both of your headspaces. You'll be able to control them and enjoy them both for what they are."

Dean was silent as he contemplated the words. "How?" he finally asked, eyes guarded. "Therapy?"

"The therapy is helpful and needed, but it can't correct the chemical imbalance by itself. The imbalance has gotten so severe, Dean. It's a big part of why you've had such trouble with so many things. Eating. incontinence. Emotional issues. It's at the point now, where medication is the only thing that can help."

Cas saw the exact moment, Dean's eyes shut off. He stopped listening, panic draining the color from his face. 

"No."

"Dean?"

"No. I don't want drugs. You never used drugs on me!"

"Dean, I never thought it was this bad--that you were this sick. I will never force you to take medication, but I want to give you the option. It will be safe. No one will have access to it accept for me and my brother. You can trust us, Dean. We will never use it against you."

Dean was biting his bottom lip hard. Cas resisted the urge to reposition the arrowhead. He doubted Dean would let him near him now. The boy was practically trembling. 

"Can't take drugs. Not again," Dean whined, eyes down. "Don't wanna."

"Dean, honey, can you talk to me? I want to understand. Why no drugs?"

"Dad used them. Lots. Didn't like 'em. How they made me feel."

Castiel shivered at the unspoken implications behind Dean's words. He wanted Garth. The therapist should be the one here for this. Not him. Garth would know exactly what to say and do. He could do so much better than him. 

"How did they make you feel?" Cas pressed carefully. He didn't remember much from his therapy class in med school, but he did remember the technique of repetition and detail seeking. Simply repeating a patient's own words or rephrasing them into a question could do a lot. It was a gentle way of allowing them to open up and share with no pressure. 

"Made me feel bad. Sick. Scared." Dean was hunched over now, hands cupping the back of his neck in a awkward almost fetal position. "Confused. Didn't know what my space was sometimes. Too jumbled."

"Dean, why did your dad make you take them?" Cas held his breath. This was the crux of the matter. This was what most of Dean's trauma really boiled down to.

"Didn't want me Little most of the time. Gave me shots to stop it. Keep me Big for work and jobs." A single word was niggling Cas. 

" _Most of the time_? Did he ever let you be Little?" 

Dean gave a whole-body shiver. It looked visceral as if memories themselves were clawing at Dean's innards. 

"Dad liked to show off the meds we sold. The little 'hibitors. When I was Little, he'd give me the shots to keep me Big. Proved they worked so people would buy more." Dean gave a shaky inhale. He was sheet white and looked moments away from vomiting or passing out. Cas wasn't sure which. 

"Sometimes... sometimes people didn't want 'hibitors. Sometimes they wanted _Littles_. Wanted stuff to make Littles stay young. Liked them better that way."

Oh. No. Cas wanted to stop this. He knew where this was going. He wanted so badly to stop this. To sponge Dean's memory clean of this horror. 

"Dad gave me Drop stimulants to make me really Little. Showed customers. Let them... _sample_." Dean looked up. He didn't look young anymore. He looked like the old POW soldier pictures Cas remembered seeing in museum presentations and books. Men with shadowed, deep eyes that were full of horrors and trauma that could never be forgotten. 

"They liked me Little. Said they liked it when I cried when they touched me."

"Dean," Cas's voice froze. What could he possible say to any of this? "Sorry" felt too shallow. Too superficial and fake. "Sorry" was what you said when you accidently forgot someone's name or showed up late to an appointment. You didn't say "sorry" to a sexual assaults survivor.

"Dean, what can I do?" Cas finally decided. He met Dean's eyes gravely and prayed he was enough. 

"You already did it," Dean finally murmured. He gave something of a wane smile that only made Cas want to cry. "You kept me safe. Brought me here." Dean's voice cracked and he looked down. Cas silently took his hands in his own. Dean squeezed back. 

"Dean, I promise, you will never suffer like that again. I will do everything to keep you safe. No one will touch you."

Dean gave a jerky nod, sniffling. "Don't want meds, though, Cas," he croaked. "Please, don't make me."

"Can I explain how it would work? Just so you know? I won't force you, but I want you to have options Dean. You deserve to have a Big space and everything that comes with it. Meds are the only way to give that to you."

Dean gave a barely perceptible nod after an almost infinite pause. Cas inhaled shakily and took the opening. 

"We'll get you set up with something called a PICC line. It's like an IV but it will only be one poke--you'll be numbed and you won't even feel it. No hurting. It can stay in for however long we need it too. The medication will go through there several times a week. The medicine will give you a mixture of neurotransmitters--the chemicals in our brains and nerves. It will replace what's low and help decrease what's too high. The more medicine you get, the more in control you'll be of your headspaces. Eventually when you get enough doses, you'll be able to have separate Big and Little different days. No sudden drops. The medicine will help you get a safe schedule."

Dean was very quiet. He was rocking slightly, eyes averted as he mused over Cas's words. 

"What if I say no?" he finally asked. 

"If you really don't want it, I'll respect it," Cas answered carefully. "I'll still let you live here with me and I'll take care of you to the best of my ability. I'll make sure you have everything you need. But Dean... I don't want you to have to keep living like this--"

"Kid, you're gonna be a hot, flaming basket case if you don't bite the bullet and let us help you," a new voice interrupted.

Cas and Dean jerked sharply at the new voice and the vitriol dripping from the words. The voice wasn't cruel but it was impatient, almost desperate. Cas whirled around on the couch to find Gabriel standing in the hallway. He'd let himself in the back door. Dean was shivering, inching closer to Castiel for protection. 

"Gabe!" Cas exclaimed, eyes flaming. "You should have called."

"I did," Gabe muttered. "Your phone's off," he deadpanned. "I figured you were dropping the news on Dean and it only seemed right a voice of reason show up and help this party along." He walked over and sat down on the floor next to the couch, cross-legged. He looked up at Dean knowingly. 

"Deano, I'm not trying to be the bad guy. I swear," he promised. "I just want to be absolutely sure you know what you're deciding. This medication is one hundred percent necessary and safe. I've used it on other Littles. My colleague Balthazar has too. He's saved hundreds of Littles from losing their Big space. They were at rock bottom--just like you--and he still pulled them out. He's corrected all kinds of issues. I trust his recommendations and he's strongly recommended we get you on these meds. If we don't, you're going to suffer. You'll be trapped in Little Space or in-betweening. It will only get worse. You'll be helpless. Sickly. It will only be a matter of time before you stop functioning altogether. I've seen it happen and I'll be damned if I see it happen to you too. Not after all the love and care Cas has literally thrown at you. It will devastate him."

"Gabe, do not drag me into this! You can't guilt him into a decision this big!"

"N-No," Dean interrupted, voice hoarse. "It's okay, Cas. I... I should do it. I will." He looked up. "You'll be the one though? You'll give me the medicine?"

"Yes. It will be me or Gabe. We'll be there the whole time," Cas promised. "I'm not leaving you." 

* * *

Dean clutched the teddy bear to his chest as he sat in the backseat of Cas's honda. He was buckled in with a blanket tucked around him. His arrow head was in his mouth, the soft weight of it grounding him. Dean looked down at the teddy bear, Honey. The name made him smile. Cas called him that a lot. Teddy bears loved honey. It only seemed fitting. Dean couldn't keep his eyes off Honey's little IV dangling from her arm. Cas had been the one to put it in. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that. Honey was really sick too. She needed the IV to get better just like Dean needed his PICC. Gabe said he would be matching. They'd both have special lines for their special medicine. 

"Okay, sweetie, we're here." Cas turned the car off and turned around in his seat to look at Dean. He was smiling, but it was his icky sad smile that Dean didn't like. Gabe was next to him. He wasn't smiling at first, but when he saw Dean's hard stare, a large grin bloomed on his face. 

"Dean bean, you get to ride in a super cool chair. I'll go get it." Gabe bolted from the passenger seat and Dean watched him head to the hospital's sliding doors. He shivered. He didn't want to go inside. He wanted to stay hidden in the car. 

"Dean, are you okay?" Cas's careful words forced Dean back into the moment. "Are you Big at all right now?"

"Some," Dean answered truthfully. "Hard," he admitted, rubbing his throbbing temples. Cas winced and reached back to take his hand. "We're going to get through this. We'll get the PICC placed and then we'll get you settled in for the medicine. Gabe said it should start to help almost right away. We can get you something extra for the pain too. I promise." 

Dean gave a shaky nod and held Honey closer. He looked down. The bear was scared too. She already had her IV though. She didn't have to be scared. 

Gabe was back and opening Dean's door. He was holding a wheelchair. Dean drew back uncertainly. He'd never been in one before. 

"This will be your special chair today, Dean. I'll chauffeur you around like the prince you are. I can even show you how to pop some wheelies later."

"Gabriel! you will not!" 

Gabe winked at Dean with a smirk and Dean found himself grinning back slightly. Gabe really wasn't that scary. He was a lot like Cassy, but way funnier and silly sometimes. He didn't always act like a doctor. He helped him out of his seatbelt and into the chair. Gabe tucked the blankets all around him just so and made sure Honey had a good spot on Dean's lap so she could look around and see everything. Gabe waited for Castiel to get out and meet them before he started rolling Dean up the parking lot to the hospital. Dean gulped hard at the imposing doorway. The building looked so huge. He didn't want to get lost inside. He tightened his grip on Honey. He didn't want her getting lost either. It struck him that Mopsy should probably be there with him. She always made him feel better. Still, what if she got lost? Besides, she wasn't sick. Honey was sick. She was Dean's sick buddy, Gabe said. It was only right that Honey come with him and not Mopsy this time. 

The lady at the front desk spoke with Cas several moments before she nodded and they wheeled past her. She smiled at Dean, but he didn't like her smile. It felt icky and sad. He looked away quickly and buried his face in Honey's fur. They reached a small room filled with toys and books. There were two other Littles playing, but Dean had no desire to go play. He stayed in his chair and hugged Honey while Gabe went to the new desk. Dean watched him go into a doorway beside the desk. 

"G-Gabe go?" Dean lisped out in concern.

"He's just going to make sure your room is ready. He's going to help put your special line in." Cas promised. He knelt down beside Dean and rubbed his back as they waited. Dean felt a little better, but he didn't like the Little that kept starting at him. It was another Little boy. He kept staring and then pointing. Dean heard him whispering to his Mommy. 

"Dean, it's okay," Cas reassured him. "He's just curious. You have a super cool chair." Dean looked down. His chair was cool. It was red and had pictures of puppies on the sides. Honey liked it too. 

The phone rang and the lady at the desk answered. Several moments later, she stood and motioned to Cas. She was smiling and she reminded Dean a little bit of Charlie. "Dr. Novak. They're ready for you in back. IR is here and ready to go."

Cas nodded back and stood to wheel Dean through the door. 

"Okay, Dean, I'm going to explain what's happening, but you can ask any questions you want at any time. Okay?" 

Dean nodded, eyes wide as they rolled down the long hallway. They were passing lots of closed doors. Dean wished he knew what was behind them. Maybe he didn't want to know, though.

"We'll be in a room with Gabriel, a nice nurse, and another man. He'll be helping Gabriel find just the right spot to put your PICC in. He's called an interventional radiologist. IR for short." Dean tucked that bit of information away, but he was already distracted. They'd arrived in the room and Gabriel was there talking to two other people--a short dark-skinned lady with complicated braids and a tall man with a funny pointed nose. 

"Dean bean! Ready to get this party started?" Dean wrinkled his nose at Gabe. It most certainly did not feel like a party. The room felt somehow both too large and too small at the same time. A table was at the center of the room and machines and equipment trays seemed to fill all of the remaining space. Dean didn't realize how quick he was breathing until Cas started rubbing his back and humming to him. 

"Okay, honey, we're going to sit you on the table now. I'll help you." Dean let Cas help him stand shakily to his feet and shuffle over to the table. He sat down and stared about wildly. He wanted to be sure he knew exactly where everyone was. Especially Cas. "I'm going to help you take your shirt and pants off really quick. I have a nice warm gown and some blankets we heated up for you." Dean's eyes swiveled over to the new lady that was sitting down next to him. She was smiling and it wasn't the icky smile of the lady at the front desk. This was a real smile. Dean nodded. He could trust this lady. 

"My name is Ruth. I'm going to be your nurse today. I'll even go with you later to get your special medicine. I'll be your special buddy today. Sound good?" Dean nodded. He liked the idea of the same person being there. Familiar faces were easier to be around. Dean let Ruth help him slip his batman PJ t-shirt off his head. He'd had to get up super duper early that morning to go to the Hospital. Cas had said he could just stay in his PJs so he'd be cozier. Dean yawned. It was still really early. He hadn't even eaten breakfast yet. Cas said the medicine might make him feel icky and he'd be able to eat right afterward just in case. He was hungry though!

"Dean, I have some special wipes I'm going to use to clean your skin. They'll kill all the yucky germs so it'll be safe to put your PICC in. After you're clean, I'll help you put your gown on." Dean nodded at Ruth's instructions. He watched her produce several pink packages of wipes. Carefully, she rubbed his arms, chest and back down with a fresh wipe each. She paused to help him take his PJ pants off and then did each of his legs and hips. Dean's teeth chattered quickly as he sat bare on the table. He was just glad no one else seemed to be watching. Cas, Gabe, and the pointy-nosed man were all talking and looking at the equipment. Dean was glad. He'd rather just have Ruth looking at him. She didn't even seem to notice his diaper. It was nice of her not to ask about it.

"Okay, sweetheart. One fresh gown for you and then we'll lie down and get you nice and cozy. I stole some blankets from our special blanket oven so they'll be nice and toasty for you." Ruth winked and Dean giggled at the idea of such a small, nice lady actually stealing something for him. Also, what was a blanket oven? Was it like a real oven?

Dean laid down in the center of the table and Ruth tucked several blankets over him. Sure enough, they were warm and soft just like she promised. Dean noticed she kept one of his arms out of the blankets. She also untied the gown and pulled it down so his upper arm was still showing and bare.

"Okay, Dean, all cozy and warm-up?" Dean nodded up at Gabe. He and the others were finally done talking. "This is Brent. He's an radiologist and he'll be helping me get your special line all ready and in the right spot."

"Good to meet you Dean. You're gonna do awesome today!" Dean smiled up shyly at the new man. He seemed nice enough. "Okay, Ruth and I are going to put a special drape over your body. It's clear so you can see, but it will help keep all the germs off your arm while we work." Dean nodded and watched them unwrap a plastic sheet. It was large and clear. They unfolded it over his body and then brought the top up to his face. Sure enough, it lay across his face but he could still see. Cas sat down next to him and smiled. 

"Hey, munchkin. I'm going to keep you company right here, okay?" Dean smiled, relief filling his chest warmly. He was glad Cas wouldn't be working. He'd rather him stay with him and talk and hold his hand. 

"Okay, Dean, we're going to start getting things set up. We'll be putting on some special gowns and hats. We'll be wearing masks, but it will still be just us. We'll look kinda like astronauts for a while," Gabe promised. Dean watched the group help each other dress in long blue gowns complete with hair caps, masks, and gloves. It was hard to recognize them. If he hadn't already seen them, he'd have no clue what they looked like under all their gear. 

"Now, Dean, it's very important that you lie as still as you can the whole time. If you move your arm, I won't be able to find the right place for your PICC and I don't want to hurt you by accident." Brent's voice was still kind, but also very very serious. Dean gulped and nodded. He would do his best to listen. "Castiel will be staying with you to help you hold still if you need him to. He can hold your hand and remind you to lie still. If it gets too hard, we have some medicine we can give to help you relax and feel sleepy." Dean instantly shook his head. He knew Brent wasn't trying to be mean, but he also must not have known how scary medicine was to Dean. "It's okay," Brent rushed. "We're going to do everything we can to skip the medicine. I won't give it if I don't have to," he promised. 

Dean lay as quiet and still as he could as he watched the group work. Ruth put some colored stickers on his chest under the drape. She said they were for watching his heart and she even showed him the zig-zags on the screen above him that represented his heartbeats. Gabe and Brent were unwrapping a box and laying out a bunch of equipment Dean couldn't quite see. He was honestly glad he didn't have a good enough vantage point. If he saw the tools, he knew it would only scare him more. Cas stayed by his side just like he promised and explained everything. 

"Just cleaning your arm up again super good," Ruth explained as she scrubbed a foam wand over his forearm. "No more icky germs here!"

"A couple small pokes," Gabe explained. "This will keep your arm nice and numb the whole time so nothing hurts." Dean winced at the series of small pokes and squeezed Cas's hand. Gabe was telling the truth though. Just moments after the pokes, he realized he couldn't feel anything else in that region of his arm. He felt distant pressure, but no real pain or sensation. 

"Okay, Brent is running a wand with some gel over your arm now," Cas explained. "The wand lets him see pictures of your veins at that screen. He's going to pick the biggest, best one for the PICC." Dean craned his head slightly so he could see the staticky black and white pictures. He had no idea what he was looking at. He was just glad Brent seemed to understand what the pictures meant. 

"Okay, I found our vein," Brent announced after several long moments of searching. He nodded to Gabe who bent to pick up some tools off the tray. 

"Dean, sweetie, I want you to look at me now," Cas said firmly. Dean obeyed and kept his head turned, eyes fixed on Cas's. They looked serious but still so soft and gentle. He didn't look scared. "Hey, hon, can I tell you a secret?" Dean nodded eagerly. "Gabriel gets super nervous whenever someone watches him work."

Gabe made a funny snorting sound that came out slightly muffled under his thick mask. Cas winked and continued. "When we were children he'd get so nervous when it was his turn to bat, that he'd strike-out over an over again. He can't stand it when people watch him. He even quit baseball that year." Dean giggled at the mental image. "Right now, it would really help him, if you didn't look over while he works. It would make him feel better. Okay, pumpkin?" Dean nodded. He could help Gabe. He chanced a final look back and found Gabe smiling down at him with a wink. It was hard to see the smile under the mask, but Dean noticed the corners of Gabe's eyes were all happy-crinkly. "Won't look, Gabe," he promised. 

"Thanks, sweet bean. I appreciate that," Gabe answered with a chuckle. 

For the next half hour, Dean kept his promise. He kept his head turned and his eyes on Cas while Gabe and Brent worked. He listened hard though and picked up a handful of phrases to ask about later. He caught terms like guide wire, and catheter and ultrasound. He felt pressure and touch, but nothing actually hurt. It was weird--almost like his right arm no longer belonged to his body. 

And then suddenly it was over.

"Okay, munchkin!" Gabe announced. "Brent is just going to take one quick x ray of your chest--one picture--to make sure your PICC is in the right spot. As long as it is, we'll be all finished and we can get your arm all cleaned up. 

Dean smiled, relief making him warm and woozy. It was over? He'd done it? Cas was grinning at him proudly. "You did so so good. You kept so still. I'm proud of you, Dean. I know it was scary."

"You were one of the bravest patients I've had in a long time," Ruth agreed. She was pulling the drape off of Dean's body and smiling cheerily. "In fact, we have a special prize chest just for our bravest patients. I'm pretty sure you just earned a trip to our chest!" Dean's face hurt. He was smiling too hard. He felt drunk with relief. It was over. He'd done it. He hadn't freaked out. He hadn't upset Cas or Gabe or messed up their work. He was gonna get a prize! He'd never won a prize before. Deep down, he knew he should probably refuse the prize. He wasn't all the way Little. A small portion of him was still Big enough to know that only little kids and actual Little's should get prizes for being brave. Still... it was a _prize chest!_ Who knew what was in there!

Brent's x ray was fast and both he and Gabe seemed happy with what the picture showed. Gabe took a long silly bow and pronounced Dean's PICC fully ready for use. 

Ruth and Cas helped Dean sit up. He had to take a few deep breaths and settle himself. It felt like he'd been lying down for so long. He was a little dizzy. When he was finally cleared to stand, Ruth wheeled him down the hall to a room with an actual, honest-to-God pirate treasure chest inside. Dean opened it and grinned. So many prizes! Ruth giggled and Dean was vaguely aware of the sound of a phone camera going off. Cas had followed them to the prize closet. 

It took a long time, but Dean finally decided on a long clear tube that had blue water and sparklies inside. There were tiny sharks and fish floating around inside and it reminded Dean of his sensory table and sea creatures. If he shook it, the sparklies and fish flew all around inside like a giant storm.

"Good choosing, baby," Cas praised as he wheeled him back down the hall. "That will be nice to play with later today." Dean nodded. He was holding his toy with one hand. His right arm still felt weird and numb. It felt too heavy to move and he didn't like looking at it exactly. There was a long thin tube snaking out from beneath his skin and the whole thing was held in place by a square transparent dressing. It was weird to see and it didn't feel like it was his arm still. 

"Okay, honey, we're going to go to a new room now and meet Ruth there. It will have a softer bed and blankets and even a TV. I can put some Curious George on for you. We'll get you all comfortable and settled in."

Dean didn't miss the hesitation in Cas's voice. He knew what was coming next.

"Med'cine now?" Dean whispered miserably. He kept his eyes fixed on his ocean tube. If he stared hard enough at the blue sparkly water, the scary, ick feelings inside his chest didn't feel quite as big. 

"Yes, Dean, we're going to get your medicine set up in just a bit," Cas explained carefully. "It's going to help you feel so much better and I'm going to be the one giving it to you. I won't let anyone else touch it. I promise." 

Dean sniffled wetly. He didn't want to think about the medicine. About the yucky, sick feelings that would come with it.

"Dean, honey. Do you trust me?" Dean looked up at that. Of course he trusted Cas. Cas was Cas. He nodded shakily. 

"I need you to trust that I will never give you anything bad. Anything that will hurt you." Dean sniffled harder and rubbed his eyes. He nodded again, but didn't feel better. He knew all of this, but that didn't translate into feelings. 

They arrived at the new room which was actually a large room that was curtained off with pink and blue curtains. The were closed but he could see inside a few. There were lots of bed in rows along the walls, each one sectioned off for privacy. 

They reached his bed and Cas helped him inside and got him covered up and cozy with Honey and his ocean tube. Cas pulled the curtain closed and turned on the TV. Sure enough, Curious George was playing. Dean settled in and tried to enjoy the show, but he couldn't ignore the incoming doom that seemed to be sweeping closer like a dark cloud. He stared at his right arm almost hatefully. He didn't want the PICC anymore! He wanted it out. If he pulled it out, they couldn't put the icky medicine inside! He was debating how he could pull it without Cas noticing, when Ruth interrupted his plans. She arrived with a tub of small stuffed animals. 

"I thought your pretty bear could use some friends while you're here." Dean wrinkled his nose. He knew a distraction when he saw one. Besides, Honey didn't feel like playing right now. 

He noticed Cas and Ruth share a quiet look. It made him feel guilty. 

"Hey, Dean, remember how I told you Honey was sick with some owies? What if I let you give her some medicine? She can get it through her special IV just like you. If she does okay with it, then maybe it won't feel so scary for you."

Dean paused to consider that. He looked at Honey guiltily. She didn't want medicine. How could he give it to her? Would she get upset with him?

Ruth brought a baggy of clear fluid and a long plastic tube. "Here we go, Dean. This tube attaches to the bag and the other end goes to her IV. Go ahead and connect it." Dean obeyed, but his eyes were smarting. Honey was scared. She didn't want medicine in her arm!

All the tubes were connected and the medicine was ready. "Okay, Dean, go ahead and open up this slide clamp. That's it. Roll it open and Honey can get her medicine so she feels better," Cas prompted.

Dean started to roll the clamp open, but he froze, eyes fixed on the baggy of medicine. Honey was scared! She didn't want this. She didn't know what the medicine could do! Dean flung the IV away and threw himself into his pillow. He buried his face. He didn't want to look at Honey. He didn't want Cas or Ruth to look at him and see what a scared, stupid baby he was being. He heard Cas and Ruth talking quietly. They were probably talking about what a big bother he was being. Other Littles could probably take their medicine just fine. Why did he have to be so scared!?

He felt his pillow quickly going wet and warm with his tears. They were coming so fast and hard and feared they wouldn't stop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes: 
> 
> Therapeutic communication techniques medical professionals and therapist use (including the re-phrasing and detail seeking Cas used). These are great to use on everyone! *Everyone* could use some therapeutic communication <3
> 
> https://www.rivier.edu/academics/blog-posts/17-therapeutic-communication-techniques/  
> https://youtu.be/GpXXNZGb6fc
> 
> PICC Line placement:   
> https://youtu.be/UKnvJv5UjZs  
> https://youtu.be/DgQbQSBYeQU
> 
> Sorry to leave the cliffhanger. This chapter was getting long and I wanted to end it on a definite place. Rest assured, next chapter will be well-worth it. ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally takes the plunge with many hands helping along the way. Cas and Dean plan and adjust to a new home. And maybe things really aren't that bad now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should probably wait longer in between chapters, but I couldn't. I've been looking forward to this. Also, I'll be working a million hours the rest of this month and I wasn't sure when I'd be free again. Please note that this chapter isn't meant to demonstrate coercion into non-consensual medical treatment. As a RN, I strongly strongly advocate that patients choose their own care whenever they are able. Dean isn't tricked or "talked into" anything in this chapter. He's just given some help seeing that the care he fears really doesn't have to be that scary when the right folks are involved. Also, I love Cas dearly, but his personal connection and love for Dean are definitely in the way a bit and clouding his insight. This is why medical professionals are not able to care for patients with whom they have personal connection. Gabe is highly needed in Dean's situation because he not only brings his mad doctoring skills but also some much-needed objectivity. He doesn't have strong emotion skewing his medical decisions. That's why he's able to make the hard calls and choices Cas has struggled with up until now. So yes, I nominate Gabe as Doc of the year. <3
> 
> Also... we get a special guest visitor in this chapter who is basically the hero of the day :3 Hope you enjoy <3 Leave a word if you do!

Dean lay curled on his side clutching Honey in a sweaty death grip. He stared at the soft blue curtains fencing him off from the rest of the room. He wished he could hide. Wished that no one could see what a big baby he was being. He sniffled and buried his face in Honey's soft fur. She'd forgiven him for trying to give her medicine. He'd been super sorry and apologized. Now, however, she was worried about him. 

There was quiet murmuring outside the curtains. It sounded like Cas and maybe Gabe. They were trying hard to whisper and Dean couldn't make out what they were saying. He bit his lip. They were probably talking about him. About what a bother he'd been. He started crying too hard to even talk earlier. Ruth had left with the medicine and he hadn't seen her since. The sad, scared look in Cas's eyes still churned Dean's gut. He'd been so disappointed. Dean was a disappointment. He couldn't be brave like Cas wanted. He'd tried so so hard. He'd made it through the awful PICC but now he was gonna go home a big fat failure because he was too scared for medicine. 

Dean sobbed and clutched Honey harder. At least Honey was still with him. She understood what it was like to be that scared. Would Cas leave him though? If he couldn't make Dean better, would he give up and take him back to Missouri's? Or worse, would he make the mean lady come and pick Dean up again. Dean shivered. He didn't like Jeanine! He gulped and tried to bury his sobs in his teddy. He didn't want Cas to hear.

* * *

"Cas, this has gone too far. He's been in-betweening hard all day. He's dropping now. This could be it. He could go down today and never come back up again. Do you feel comfortable caring for a sick Little that is trapped in an infant head-space? Twenty-four-seven? An infant that will eventually stop eating, playing, interacting?"

Cas wanted to hold his ears and block out the impending doom Gabe was spouting. He knew it wasn't rhetoric. Wasn't exaggeration. His brother was right. Dean was going to be lost. 

"Sign the fracking form and give consent--Dean obviously can't any more. The PICC is in and we can still give the meds today."

"He's terrified, Gabe," Cas croaked, unable to meet his brother's eyes. "He'll never forgive me if I go behind his back like this."

"No, but at least he'll be sane and healthy. He'll have a fudging Big space he can properly hate you with."

"Gabe, please... just give me a little more time. Another hour or two to see if he calms down."

"Dean may not be responsive in an hour. He's crying still. Strong emotion triggers Drops. You know this Cas!" Gabe ran a hand through his floppy bangs in exasperation. He began pacing as Cas stood stock-still and did his best to stave off his blooming panic. The muffled sobs from behind the curtain seemed to fill their ears louder than any shouting ever could. Cas clenched his jaw and tried to block them out. He couldn't do this. He couldn't make this decision. He couldn't force something so terrifying on Dean after the horror that he'd survived. He hated himself for it. He felt trapped. Terrified of betraying Dean's wishes but sick to his stomach at the thought of losing Dean entirely. He couldn't picture himself caring for Dean if he lost his Big space. Dean wouldn't last long. 

"Give me the number of the therapist Dean was seeing."

The blunt order took Cas by surprise. He looked up and met Gabe's intense stare. He was clearly on a mission and nothing would dissuade him. 

"His therapist?" Cas stammered, questioning. 

"Yeah, the one that was working with him at Missouri's. I need to talk to him and I need to do it now. We're on a time-crunch Cassie. I'm not going to let you lose Dean, and I'm also not going to let that Little lose half of his fudging personality because we can't get our crap together." 

Cas mutely pulled up Garth's contact info and passed it to Gabe. He couldn't speak. If he did, the unspeakable, caustic panic that was building up in his gut might accidently spew forth like an acid volcano. He stood there ram-rod straight as he tried to measure and slow his breaths. Dean was quiet now. He hoped it meant he was calming down or dozing. Either one would be better for his headspace. 

Gabe stalked off with the phone, his steps brisk and all-business. Cas felt his chest ache. He wished he had even half of that confidence and force. He supposed that was why his brother was the world-renown researcher and medical author and while he was still floundering to keep his own private practice afloat. 

* * *

Dean peaked up blearily from Honey's fur at the soft steps approaching. He blinked hard and did a double take. Was he dreaming? Why was Ash here? The young man gave him a toothy, breezy grin and plopped down on Dean's bed like he owned it. 

"Deano! How's it going buddy?"

Ash was holding an interesting looking toy with lots of buttons and colors. Ash was clicking away at it. He noticed Dean's intent gaze and wordlessly passed it over. Dean regarded the sphere and felt something give way slightly as he began clicking away. It felt good to make his hands busy and distracted. He worked away at the toy with one hand and kept his other thumb firmly rooted in his mouth.

"Heard you're having a sucky day, bro." Ash let the statement hang. Dean gulped and gave a shaky nod. He wondered how much Ash had been told. Was Ash judging him for not being braver? If so, Dean didn't blame him. Ash was a brave Little. He'd survived his caretaker dying and leaving him all alone. He was even brave enough to be Big and work an actual job. Dean couldn't imagine himself doing that. What would he even do? He couldn't picture himself dressing up each day and going to an office. A shuddery sob rose unbidden in Dean's chest. Ash heard the change in his breathing and crept closer on the bed until they were sitting close enough for their legs to touch. 

"Dean," Ash began, his voice strangely soft and careful. It was odd. Dean had only ever heard his voice with the fun, playful lilt. Ash was never this serious--accept for the time he'd told Dean his story. 

"It's okay to be scared," he continued. "When I lost Drew, I was terrified. I usta puke every time I changed custody. I would hear the news, freak out and get sick. I stopped eating for 3 whole months once. The caretaker I was with freaked out and made me get a tube shoved down my nose. They fed me out of a gross formula bag. I didn't want that, Dean, but it happened. No one listened to me when I told them 'no.'" 

Dean clicked harder on the fidget toy, pressing so hard his thumb began to ache. 

"You're very very lucky to have such a good caretaker like Castiel. He listens to you. He knows you don't want the medicine and he's not forcing it." Ash inhaled shakily. "He knows you're very scared of the medicine, but he doesn't want it to be that scary. It won't be the same as however it was before for you. I don't know everything that happened, but I know that if Cas cares enough to listen to you when you say 'no,' you can trust that he'd never hurt you with the medicine or anything else."

"I know!" Dean burst, voice wet and shaky. "I know, but I can't stop the feelings! They're just there and I can't stop them." He grabbed Honey and pressed her to his face. Ash shouldn't have to see him this way."

"Dean, remember when I said that Ellen gave me the meds when I first showed up at Missouri's?" Dean didn't answer, but Ash continued on. He seemed to understand that words and talking were simply beyond Dean's function now. "I hated it. Ellen was very strict with me. She saw me having these horrible meltdowns--hurting myself, hurting other people. Miserable. She had to make a hard choice. She gave me the meds. I hated her for it at first, but when I started feeling like a human being again, I realized how thankful I was. Between her and Garth, they gave me back everything I lost when Drew died. I could function again. I could start working and helping other Littles. I'm glad they were brave enough to help me make decisions when I wasn't able to."

"Don't know how the meds will feel," Dean finally croaked. "Scared." He wasn't sure exactly when Ash started hugging him, but he pressed his face into the other Little's t-shirt and breathed hard.

"Dean, I'm due for my next dose of meds. I usually take a pen injection with Ellen, but I talked to Garth and Gabe. I can do the treatment right here with you instead. We're on the same stuff. I want you to see what it's like for me. We can do it together."

Dean pulled back and stared. Ash was willing to do that for him? 

"How does that sound, Dean. I can stay right here and you can watch the whole thing." Dean's mind spun. The intimacy and vulnerability of what Ash was suggesting took his breath away. He was willing to be put on display just to make Dean feel better. 

He gave a rubbery nod and looked away, shame burning his cheeks. Ash shouldn't be doing this for him. It was just too much. 

Ash didn't seem to feel that way. He was smiling and squeezing Dean's hand. He left briefly and came back with Cas and Gabe. The pair were quiet and serious and Dean saw through the pained, worried smiles they kept shooting his way. 

Ash scooted onto Dean's bed and offered his arm to Gabe. Dean's eyes bugged out just a bit more when he saw what lurked carefully hidden beneath Ash's shirt sleeve. 

A special line. A PICC. How long had it been there? Dean realized he'd never seen Ash's bare arm before. He'd always worn long sleeved shirts. Was this why?

"Still get my PICC changed out once a year," he explained when he saw Dean's surprise. "Have it just in case since I was so sick before. There if I need heavy-duty stuff. Don't though. Doing good right now, I promise."

Gabe was hanging a small baggy from a pole, chatting with Ash about inane things. Sports. Some new baking competition on Netflix. Dean wasn't didn't care; he wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the alcohol wipe Cas was using to clean the end of Ash's line. He scrubbed it hard and then connected the long IV tubing. Dean's breath quickened as he watched Cas program the small pump on the pole and slide the tubing clamp open. Ash lay back and turned to look at Dean. He gave a wane smile. 

"I'm gonna talk to you, Dean. Tell you how I feel when the meds start."

Dean met his eyes and didn't look away. 

"I'm not gonna lie. I always feel a little jittery at first when the meds first hit, but it's not bad anymore. I know what's coming. The meds I'm on right now will Drop me right down to about 2 years old. I'll probably get kinda goofy. I'll be tired for the rest of the day. It's okay though because Garth is here. He'll help me up and get me back to Missouri's. I'll get all cuddly and cleaned up and I'll probably take a good nap later."

As if on cue, Ash let out a long yawn. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "See, nice and relaxed. After I rest up today, I'll have all day tomorrow and the day after to play and chill. Me 'n Kevin have a play date scheduled. He's got these cool new cars."

Ash went a little limper on the bed. His breathing was slow and steady and Dean felt a pang of jealously. He looked so relaxed and calm. He didn't look scared. Dean looked up suspiciously at the IV. Was anything actually going into him? 

"Dean, I know meds are scary, but you know what makes it all good and okay?" Dean's eyes swiveled back to Ash. He was rubbing his eyes again. One hand creeping suspiciously toward his mouth as if he was about to start sucking his fingers. 

"What?" Dean asked. 

"I know that Garth and Ellen and Benny will all be there. They're with me when the meds hit and they'll be there when I Drop. No one's leaving me again. Don hafta be 'lone an'more."

With that, the meds seemed to finally hit. Ash was lying very still, his chest moving up and down slowly. His face looked soft and relaxed as if literal years had been pealed away. Dean tried to superimpose the image of Ash as his physical therapist over this new, young Ash. He couldn't. 

"Dean? Sweetie?"

Cas was standing near him, face lined with worried wrinkled and his eyes soft and wet with emotion. 

Gabe was standing behind him near the curtain. Garth was there too now. He'd entered some time during Ash's last reassurance. He was smiling at Dean, but it was a soft quiet smile like the one he'd given when Dean had been describing the colors on his pictures all those days ago in Garth's office. 

"Dean, I'm sorry this is so scary, but I don't want you getting any sicker. Can we please try the medication. You can say no the next time, but I think we need to at least try this time."

Dean felt his head nodding up and down. He couldn't speak though. Word were too much. He looked over at Ash. The Little's eyes were slitted open and he looked very very sleepy, but not scared or hurting. Two fingers were in his mouth and Dean could hear the wet pop of the suckling. 

"'kay, Cas," Dean finally whispered. "Want Ash to stay though."

"He can most definitely stay," Garth piped up from where he stood watching. "He wanted to do this with you."

Dean gulped and gave another shaky nod. He laid down next to Ash and scooped Honey up and hugged her with one arm. Several moments later, he was surprised to feel a warm hand creeping into his own. He looked down and found Ash holding his hand. 

"F'wiends," Ash slurred. "Not leavin'."

"Friends," Dean agreed.

Cas was cleaning off the end of his PICC. Dean breath was quickening as he heard the beeps of the IV pump being programmed. Then Cas was at his side, clutching his other hand and rubbing his head. He was murmuring soft things as Gabe went to work hanging the medication.

Tears leaked silently from Dean's eyes. He didn't want to watch the medicine drip down into his arm. He stared back at Ash. He was more awake now. He was sucking on his fingers still and fiddling with a toy that Garth passed him. It was a squishy cow that moo'd if you pushed his fat belly. Ash poked it and giggled at the long moo that resulted. Dean felt the corner of his mouth twist ever so slightly. Ash was funny even when he was Little. 

"You poke," Ash offered, practically shoving the cow into Dean's face. Dean gave a hesitant poke and the cow gave a baeful moo. Dean giggled as Ash gave a energetic squish. "Cow goes moo!" Ash crowed. 

"Dean," Cas began. Dean turned and found him holding out the sparkly ocean tube he'd picked out earlier that day with Ruth. "Would you like to show Ash your new toy?"

"Ocean!" Dean explained, holding it out to Ash. He shook it hard and Ash chortled in awe. 

"Fishies!" Ash grabbed for the tube and stared at it, the plastic just millimeters from his eyes. "Sharky. Scary!" Ash shook it hard and squealed. "Fishies swim fast!"

Dean grabbed it back and tried to find the shark. It was spinning super fast. 

He heard Cas talking to Gabe. He didn't sound so ick anymore. He was smiling. Dean smiled up shyly and turned his attention back to Ash. Somehow, the entire cow was in his mouth, only the two fat back legs were visible. Ash gave a muffled giggle and reached for the ocean tube again. Dean giggled and reached for the cow. He poked the bottom and the cow mooed from inside Ash's mouth. Ash laughed so hard the cow flew out. Dean wiped the spit out of his eye, his belly aching from the laughter. 

* * *

"Mission. Freaking. Accomplished." Gabe slid the curtain mostly closed after stealing a final look at the two Littles. They were finally giggled-out and were currently curled up together on the bed sleeping. Ash had two fingers in his moth and Dean was sucking hard at the pacifier Castiel had sneaked into his mouth just before he fell asleep. Dean was clearly the little spoon and Ash was happy enough to cuddle him close like a life-sized teddy bear.

"I'm just relieved Ash's head-spacing schedule happened to coincide with Dean's," Castiel murmured. "There's no way Dean would have ever agreed to Drop alone." He was rubbing his temples and clearly struggling through a tension headache. He looked drained. 

"If I tell you both a secret, promise you won't freak?" Both men turned to look at Garth. He was fidgeting visibly, long slim fingers plucking at the edge of his jacket. He seemed to be having trouble meeting their gaze. 

"Ash wasn't scheduled for a Drop for another two days."

The statement hit like an anvil.

"And _there's_ the freak-out," Garth muttered. 

"Garth! he shouldn't have come in!" Castiel burst. "He didn't have to do this. It's too much."

"He was in my office when Gabe called and gave me a run down. Ash didn't hear all of it, but he over-heard enough. He made his own decision. He was the one that suggested coming in and showing Dean what it was like to do the meds. He doesn't do IV infusions anymore, but he was willing to go back on them if that's what Dean needed to see."

"Will this screw with his schedule, though? He won't get off track?" Gabe pressed, voice deadly serious. 

"No, Ash has been pretty flexible the past few years. Because he doesn't have one set caretaker at Missouri's, he's used to re-timing his Drops if he wants to do it with a specific person. Say he knows Benny is due to be off work rotation for a few days, Ash moves up his schedule so he can Drop with Benny as his primary. Same thing with me or Ellen. For someone who's gone through as much crap as Ash, he's mastered the art of flexibility."

Cas ran his hand through his hair, absently wondering just how much fresh gray had sprouted in the past few days. "When Ash comes back up... thank him, please. No, actually, tell me so I can call and thank him myself. What he did... it's beyond anything I ever would have asked or expected from anyone."

Garth grinned proudly. "That's Ash to a T'. He's amazing. All he's gone through and he uses it to help anyone he can. I think he really relates to Dean now after hearing his story."

"Little of the freaking year award," Gabe muttered with a wry smirk."

"I'm a little biased, but yeah," Garth answered with a fond grin. "I agree."

* * *

The medication had been finished for nearly half an hour when Cas and Gabe reluctantly interrupted the impromptu nap. Garth gently untangled Ash from Dean and went to work waking him. Ash gave a sleepy whine and curled into Garth's embrace. They sat rocking for several minutes while Ash finished waking. 

Dean was a lost cause. He stayed fast asleep, pacifier bobbing ever so slightly. Cas smiled down at him fondly and rubbed his bangs away. Gabe passed him a blanket and he swaddled him firmly before easing him into the wheelchair. Dean's swayed forward in his seat until Gabe fastened the lap belt and tightened the blanket folds until Dean was safe and secure. Honey was tucked into Dean's side for the ride. 

"I'm coming home with you guys to watch for any side effects or complications. The first twenty-four hours or so will really show if Dean's taken to the meds okay. He'll be more emotional and clingy, but he should stay fully Dropped for at least the next twenty-four. Tomorrow afternoon, we can do his next top-off dose at home. I'll bring the IV pole and meds with us." 

Cas nodded at Gabe brisk run-down and began wheeling Dean out of the curtains. Garth was right after them, leading a sleepy and bleary-eyed Ash. The boy was clearly exhausted and ready for a nap, but he seemed more used to the medication-induced fatigue. He was shuffling with Garth, hand in hand and blinking hard. 

"Bye, bye," he murmured sleepily. He gave a loopy grin and then leaned close to Dean, nuzzling him. "Butterfwy kissies," he slurred. Dean snuffled sleepily, but kept his eyes firmly shut. "I'll tell Dean when he wake up, okay?" Cas offered, heart bursting at the pure, unadulterated kindness of the Little before him. 

"Give him lots, kay?" Ash ordered, dead-serious. "Lossa kisses." 

"I promise," Cas answered, one hundred percent serious. The answer seemed okay for Ash who nodded agreeably and leaned into Garth's arm. "Sweepy, Gar. Wanna sweep."

"Will do, honey bunny. Let's get you back. We can get you some Oreos and milk when you wake up. How's that sound?"

"Yes pwease!" Ash shuffled off with Garth, clearly on a new mission. Garth turned and gave a thumbs up and smile. He made the phone sign next to his head and Cas nodded his understanding. 

Cas turned back to his own Little. Dean was still fast asleep, tucked securely in his chair. His face was lax and soft. It didn't even have the tense lines about his brow and eyes that usually remained even when he was asleep. He looked so relaxed now. At peace even. 

"Let's get a move on, Cassy." Gabe was already at work packing up IV supplies. Cas nodded and began wheeling Dean out. They passed Ruth on the way. She was working with another patient, but she stopped and shot them a sincere, warm smile. 'Good luck,' she mouth, placing a hand over her heart. Cas smiled back, eyes moist. He'd felt so frantic and harried that morning when they first arrived. It had been like holding a bomb inside his chest and just praying and waiting for it to never go off. It wasn't there any longer though. His chest just felt warm and full with relief and utter gratitude for the people that had leapt to Dean's aid. Gabe of course. When wasn't Gabe rescuing him? Ruth and Brent who'd seemed to instinctively understand Dean's needs and alter their own practice to suit him. Garth for showing up and being ready to help however he could. _Ash_. The moisture in Cas's eyes beaded into tears. He'd heard bits and pieces of Ash's story for Garth while the two Littles had interacted. There'd been a time when he couldn't imagine any Little suffering like Dean had. After Ash's story, though, Cas realized just how common it probably was. Ash had endured so much and yet remained so kind and open. He knew it had only been through the help he'd received for Ellen, Garth, and the others. They'd pulled him back from the brink. 

Cas looked down at Dean. He only prayed he could do the same. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean settles into his first full Little Drop--this time with all the safety and support he needs. Castiel learns to Dad™ and Gabriel becomes the fun Uncle. Also, Charlie may or may not insist on spoiling Dean to death.

Castiel sat cross-legged on the nursery floor and just stared. The nursery was quiet and warm and the morning light hadn't made into inside the room quite yet. The morning was completely still and peaceful and Castiel wanted nothing more than just to sit and enjoy the happy warmth. He smiled at the soft snuffling sound the escaped behind Dean's pacifier. The Little was lying in his crib carefully swaddled, all hands and legs neatly tucked away. The pacifier bobbed slightly, but it was clear Dean was still fast asleep. His face was soft and so young looking now, as if he hadn't a care. Castiel smiled, his chest giving a little tug. When they'd brought Dean home yesterday after the long, aching hospital trip, Dean had been dead to the world. The medication had not only induced a full drop, but it had also washed all the stress and anxiety free from Dean and sent him into a deep sleep. He'd slept through the car ride home and hadn't even stirred when Cas and Gabriel had gotten him inside and changed into a fresh diaper and pajamas. They kept him tucked in and resting and Gabriel seemed happy with the medications effects. The deep sleep Dean had been was probably the best he'd gotten in his entire life. Unresolved Drops and headspace challenges had profound hazards on Little sleep cycles. Dean was probably sleeping well for the first time ever and Cas was in no hurry to wake him. After a brief bottle during which Dean barely opened his eyes, they'd changed him again and tucked him in for the night. 

It was a brand new day now, Cas thought fondly. Dean would be waking up more and Cas couldn't wait to see the Little fully Dropped. Would he be giggly and snuggly like he'd been those brief fleeting moments before? Would he want to play? Gabe estimated Dean would be a 18 month to 2 year range. He'd be fully capable of playing and interacting as a young toddler. Cas inhaled, steeling himself. He tried to dismiss the worry that gnawed at him. There was always a risk Dean would react poorly to the medication. 

"What's this sweet domestic scene I've interrupted?" 

Cas turned and found Gabe lounging in the doorway wearing a cringe-worthy pair of silky, pink flamingo boxers--nothing else. He was sipping at a mug of steaming coffee and smirking broadly. 

Cas rolled his eyes at his brother's teasing. "I suppose I should turn the heat up if you're going to insist on wearing such little clothes."

"Don't bother," Gabe returned easily. "I've already cranked your fireplace on. We've got a nice bonfire roaring in the front."

"Of course you did," Case snarked. He looked back over at Dean. "He's sleeping so soundly. This... this is normal. This level of fatigue?"

"Yep," Gabe replied, popping the "P." He took a deep swig of coffee and plopped down next to Cas on the carpet. "Any IV or IM form of _Liteura_ has a systemic and lasting effect. It's much more dramatic than the effects of the pill version. Maybe eventually, we can transition him over to those if he stabilizes well on the IV infusions. For now, we'll have to adjust to the fatigue." Gabe sighed. "Knowing the kind of past Dean survived, some deep frequent naps probably aren't a bad idea. I doubt he got much rest growing up with a pedophile of father watching over him. Not exactly good sleeping accommodations," Gabe growled, fire in his eyes.

Cas shuddered and wished for the hundredth time John Winchester was available for a firing squad. 

"Should I wake him? He should eat, but I hate to disturb him," Cas fretted. 

"The fatigue is expected, but it is something we'll have to get used to working around. In my experience Littles on long-term headspace meds need a relatively normal, structured schedule. Set times to wake, nap, and go to bed. He'll be sleepy, but we shouldn't let him sleep excessively. The caregiver's I've worked with say their Little starts to get their energy back and show less sleepiness if they treat them normally--even if it's hard at first."

Cas took a breath and resolved himself. Gently, as if Dean would break, he carefully began rubbing his back under the swaddled blankets. He hummed and paused every now and then to rub Dean's sweat-tacky hair from his forehead. The Little was due for a bath. Slowly, Dean's eyes fluttered open. He stared up muzzily, eyes half cracked. He didn't seem fully aware of much, but he began a subtle lean into Cas's hand. 

"Hey, baby," Cas murmured with a smile. "Are we waking up yet? I know... so sleepy. We won't rush."

Dean's only response was a massive yawn. He smacked his lips and leaned in closer to Cas's touch, eyes fluttering close. 

"Okay, honey, we're going to get you cleaned up a little while you finish waking up. No hurry, little bee. We've got all morning to adjust."

Cas managed to get Dean un-swaddled and eased down to the changing pad he unrolled on the floor. He knew some caregivers preferred changing tables to pads, but he found the pads more versatile and Dean had seemed less embarrassed to lie down on a pad versus a full table with railing and straps. And then there was his back... Cas winced at the subtle twinge that made itself known as he leaned over Dean's limp form. Why did he have to feel so old. There was no way he'd be able to maneuver Dean onto a changing table when he was fully Dropped. 

He went to work unsnapping the crotch of Dean's onesie and un-taping the soaked diaper. Dean seemed to wake up more at the new coldness of the wipes and drafty air. Cas kept waiting for fussing and fear, but Dean's green eyes stayed soft and sleepy. He was gummy at his hand contentedly. His pacifier must have gone missing in the transition from crib to pad. Cas wrapped-up the changing job and rose to hunt for some suitable lounge wear for Dean, but Gabe stopped him mid-rise. He was already handing him a stack of folded clothes with a knowing grin and a wink. Cas frowned. He didn't recognize the colors from the shopping haul Charlie had produced.

"What are these, Gabe?" he pressed, suspicious. 

"A little gift from Dean's new favorite uncle."

And if that wasn't cause for instant alarm, Cas didn't know what was. 

"Come on, Cas, your baby's gonna catch a cold! Get that munchkin dressed. I'll meet you in the kitchen with breakfast."

"I'm going to give him a bottle first before we try food. I want to give him some more time to wake up--less of a shock. It'll give me time to check his headspace too."

Gabe nodded and shot him a pair of finger-guns. "You got it. It'll give me some much-needed time to get your kitchen organized for breakfast. Place is a wreck."

Cas chose to ignore that final comment. He began unfolding the clothes and stopped to stair at the playful print that caught his eye. Almost reverently, he touched the wording: _"Relax, my Daddy's a doctor!"_ The onesie was pale blue and impossibly soft. It came with a pair of grey sweats that fit loosely with an elastic waist. They'd make diaper changes easy and the material was stretchy with plenty of give. Dean would love these!

Cas went to work dressing him. Dean had already drifting back to sleep. His eyes started to flutter slightly as Cas maneuvered his arms and legs into the appropriate holes. Cas's chest felt warm and bursting. The wording on the onesie was doing funny things to his emotions. _Daddy..._ That was what he was now wasn't it? Of course, it wasn't official. There were no adoption papers. Jeanine could come at any moment and stuff Dean back into the system. Cas really shouldn't be playing house like this. 

There was one thought that filled Cas with absolute certainty, however. It didn't matter if Jeanine showed up today, tomorrow, or next week. Dean was his now. There was no way he was letting him fade out of his life. He was his Little and nothing was going to change that. He would jump through whatever hoops were necessary to prove it. 

"Okay, honey bun, let's rock a bit so you can finish waking up." Carefully, he maneuvered Dean onto his lap in the padded rocking chair. He adjusted the bottle he'd brought with him earlier and eased it into Dean's lax mouth. It took several moments, but Dean's instincts were triggered by the soft weight of the nipple against his tongue. He latched on and began suckling, slowly and hesitantly at first while his sleep-addled brain finished waking. By ten minutes later, though, Dean was definitely waking with strong, enthusiastic sucks as he filled his hungry belly. It wasn't a big bottle and Cas knew Dean probably shouldn't be taking bottles at all with an 18 month to 2 year headspace. Littles in his age group didn't usually take bottles still. However, Dean needed the calories and the comfort of a bottle. What did it really hurt?

Dean stared up at him, eyes reverent and almost unblinking. Cas smiled down at him, thumbing a small drop of milk away as it leaked from Dean's lips. "Taste good, sweetie? Just a little something to help you wake up and start our day. Uncle Gabe is making breakfast right now. Probably something yummy. He doesn't cook for himself--he's all alone in that big house. Whenever he's here, though, he always loves to cook."

Cas pulled the empty bottle away and eased Dean upright and against his shoulder for a gentle burping. Dean _hmmed_ to himself and snuggled into Cas's neck as he went to work thumping his back. Cas used the moments to steal a cuddle. He rested his face against Dean's hair and snuzzled into the baby's warmth. He tightened his hug.

He would have stayed in that rocking chair with Dean all morning had the not-so-subtle smells of cinnamon and butter stole into Dean's nursery. Gabe was definitely cooking. A lot--judging by the smells. With a sigh of disappointment, Cas relaxed his hug and pulled back to look at Dean. The Little was sucking his thumb diligently and regarding Cas with big, impossibly green eyes that seemed content and at rest. 

"Let's try a small walk to the kitchen, hon. I'm not sure I can carry you all that way and I don't want to use a wheelchair."

Carefully, Cas helped Dean down from his lap and eased him onto his feet. Dean wavered slightly, but kept his balance. Cas sighed with inward relief. Gabe's assumption was correct. Dean was right at about 18 months to 2 years. His gait was slow and toddling, but he could still walk with help. Worst come to worst, he knew Dean could crawl if he wanted to as well. The level of independence was reassuring. Cas had had secret terrors of Dean being trapped in an infant headspace unable to even roll over on his own. The maladaptive headspacing he'd occasionally fallen into back at the clinic had rendered him helpless at times. At least Dean could show some mobility. He knew he'd be happier this way. 

"Okay dokey, sweetie. Let's go to the kitchen and see what uncle Gabe made us."

Hand in hand, the pair slowly shuffled down the hallway for the kitchen. It wasn't Cas's imagination; Dean seemed to quicken his pace slightly as the smells intensified. Cas looked over and found Dean practically drooling, eyes wide when they made it to the kitchen. 

"I see you brought me a hungry baby! Excellent! I've prepared a feast fit for my favorite and only nephew!" Gabe crowed.

Cas helped Dean into his special chair and snapped the sides and tray into place. It wasn't a high chair per say, but the extra siding helped younger Littles gain the support they needed to stay upright while eating. Dean didn't seem to notice or care about the confines of the chair. He was slapping the tray eagerly making happy--if not demanding--gurgles and noises. He was ready food! Gabe quickly obliged. He carried a platter of fresh waffles from the stove and served one up onto a plastic Little plate. Cas smiled down at the farm animals brightly coloring the plate. it came with a little rounded off fork.

"One Belgian waffle for Master Dean. Syrup and butter and cinnamon. Also, calm down, Cas. I cut up a banana for him too! I'm not a complete nutritional dumpster fire."

Gabe cut up the waffle into manageable bites and set the plate on Dean's tray. 

Predictably, Dean tucked in with an eagerness that stunned Cas. Dean forewent the specialty Little cutler and grabbed for the waffle bites with his hands, no regard for the stickiness of the butter or syrup. He stuffed his mouth, his cheeks bulging. 

"Look at him go, Cassy!"

"He's never had this kind of appetite. I mean he was starting to eat better before, but..."

"See, this is was a healthy drop can do for an abused Little. It's like a freaking re-set button!" Gabe gave an air-punch of jubilation and sat down to his own towering plate of waffles. Cas helped himself to a serving, but he couldn't focus on his own food. He'd much rather enjoy watching Dean devour his plate. He tried to superimpose images of the malnourished, sickly Little that had been on the verge of wasting away over this new, famished Dean. It was a hard task. Dean was still thin, but no longer skeletal. From the way he was eating now, it was easy to picture him gaining a few more much needed pounds over the next few weeks. He might actually get a healthy dose of "Little pudge" as some caregivers lovingly called it. Not fat by any means, but well-cared for. 

"After breakfast, we should do a quick assessment. Just basic reflexes and vocabulary. From his gait, he looks right about 18 months to 2 years, but the reflexes will really give us a good idea. Also, I'm curious whether he has much speaking capability. He should be at least 6 to 20 words. Two word sentences would be perfect for him." Cas nodded, distracted. Dean was still stuffing his cheeks across the table. 

"Cas, Cas!" Gabe snapped his fingers a few times, smirking. "I knew first-time parents were spacy, but you're pushing the limit here, bro."

"Sorry, it's just--"

"No, don't apologize. I'm happy for you. For both of you." Gabe reached over and squeezed his shoulder. For all his razzing and sarcasm, glimmers of warmth and care still shined through the digs and smirks. 

"I'm all for enjoying this, but we still need to be organized and careful. If he clocks in at the right reflexes and vocabulary, we'll know the medication is working well and we can continue with his next dose this evening. We'll eat, do a quick check, then he'll be all yours. We can do a total play-day slash snuggle day. Anything you two want. God knows you both have waited long enough." 

Cas nodded and took his first bite of waffle. He smiled at the sweet warmth filling his mouth. Waffles were such an appropriate celebratory breakfast. 

They finished up and Gabe pronounced the kitchen mess could wait. They left the dishes in the sink and Cas set about cleaning Dean's sticky face and hands. He was thankful for the bib. It had been the only saving grace that kept Dean from wiping-out his entire onesie with syrup. Even then, a few sticky spots managed to dot the top portion. Cas chose to ignore it. He could always change Dean later with his next diaper. 

They headed to the living room, Dean toddling carefully, his hand clutching Cas's like a lifeline. 

Gabe was seated cross-legged by the fireplace, smiling his easy, open smile. Cas led Dean over and copied Gabe's pose. Dean plopped down in front of Cas, wobbling slightly. He sunk slightly to the floor and made as if to curl up and go to sleep, before Gabe stopped him. Playfully, he snagged one of Dean's feet and tugged the sock off. Dean made a scrunched glare of annoyance and tugged his foot away. Gabe chuckled lightly and tugged the foot back. He rubbed a finger from the heel of Dean's foot all the way to the toes and Dean's toes curled downward before Dean quickly jerked his foot away, brow still scrunched. 

"Ha! one negative Babinksi here!" Gabe crowed proudly. "We're past 18 months officially." Cas smiled and eased Dean toward his lap. The Little was clearly irritated at his brother and Cas was in no hurry to push Dean's limits. Dean willingly sunk into Cas's lap and leaned back against him, one hand going to his mouth. The fingers must still have carried traces of syrup because Dean's sucking grew with vigor. 

"I was a little concerned when he didn't go for the fork at breakfast," Gabe murmured, nodding at Dean's sucking. "I want to be sure his grasp is appropriate." With that, he held out a dark green car and Dean's eye blew wide. "Hey, Dean bean, wanna try this?"

Dean's only answer was to lean forward and snag the car from Gabriel with an eager jerk. He brought the car to his face and stared hard it it, mouth slightly gaping in what appeared to be awe. He looked entranced. 

"I should have known Dean would be a classic car enthusiast. He's got good taste. That my friends, is a 1967 Chevy impala. Sweet ride if I do say so. Dean clearly agrees." 

Cas chuckled at the site, his anxiety fading with each test Dean successfully passed. He wasn't showing a positive Babinski reflex--something that should be absent by 18 months. His grasping was appropriate--he was holding the car with ease. But now came the big test. Language.

"Dean, I have some pictures with me. Pretty cool stuff. I want you to point at what I say."

Gabe didn't seem to care that Dean didn't appear to be listening. He was shuffling a stack of big, laminated cards. He pulled the first one out and held it before Dean. It was a picture of a cow and a pig side by side, each brightly colored and cartoony. 

"Dean, hon, show me the piggy?"

Dean looked up from his car and wrinkled his brow as if to as "is he for real?" After a pause, he pointed a hand at the pig and looked back at Cas for approval. 

"Yay! great job, Dean. That's right. There's the piggy!" 

Gabe did a dramatic slow clap, but he was grinning broadly. Relief was obvious on his face and Cas wondered if perhaps his brother had been just as worried. 

"Okay, where's the doggy?" 

Dean looked at the next card and quickly pointed at the brown, spotted puppy dog on the left. 

They continued with the cards for a few more animals before switching to other common objects--car, house, girl, boy. Gabe stunned Cas by abruptly holding up a small picture frame he'd snagged from somewhere in his house. It was a portrait of himself with Gabe at their medical school graduation. 

"Dean, who's this?" Gabe asked, pointing to Cas's face. 

Dean's face practically glowed and he gave a shy grin. 

"Dadda," he answered without hesitation. 

Cas's chest nearly exploded. The Heavens were open and angels were descending. Fireworks exploded from somewhere in the distance. Dean's first word as a full, uninhibited Little was "Dadda."

"Now, Cassy, let's not cry all over the baby. He'll catch cold."

"Gabe, you're insufferable."

"You're welcome," Gabe shot back with a wink. "I thought his first word should be special. This is as special as I can make it. You deserve it, Cassy. You've been to hell and back and you brought this little guy out. You both deserve to be happy."

Castiel wiped the moisture from his eyes and tugged Dean closer in his lap. Normally, he'd never let his walls down for Gabe to see him this emotional. He was supposed to be the calm, rationale one of the family. He didn't care at the moment. Thankfully, Gabe didn't seem to either. Gabriel was smiling a quiet, knowing smile as he put his cards away. He produced a small pile of colored blocks and pushed them in front of Dean. "Hey, sweet bean, can you build a tower for me?"

Castiel watched Dean regard the blocks with keen interest. The green ones in particular seemed to be his favorite. He was picking them up and studying the polka dots that were painted on the sides. 

"Dean, build a tower, buddy. As high as you can!" Gabe urged playfully. Cas knew the game of blocks had deeper motive. Gabe was still testing Dean's developmental stage. 18-24 month old children and Littles had set play milestones they should be able to reach. Building a tower of at least four blocks was one of them. 

Dean didn't seem interested in building a tower at first. Finally, he began settling the blocks atop each other with clumsy, poorly-coordinated attempts. He got to four blocks and Cas let out a sigh of relief. Dean attempted several more before the tower teetered dangerously and crashed. The blocks bounced off the hard tile in front of the fireplace and Dean gave a startled jump in Cas's lap. He let out a mew of startled fear and pulled back sharply at the noise. 

Cas hugged him close and rocked them slightly. Dean was definitely sensitive to noise. Gabe was making a quick notation in a small notebook in his lap. He looked serious, but he instantly plastered a playful smile back on when he caught Dean's attention. 

"Wow, buddy, that was an awesome tower! What a crash! I know that was super loud. I have another surprise for you." He pulled a coloring book and several over-sized crayons from the bag at his side. Dean's eye went bright with interest, the fright of the fallen tower quickly vanishing. Dean clutched at the book and grabbed a red crayon. He held it tightly in his fist and began scribbling with zeal all over the face of a very dark and brooding Batman. 

"I knew Dean was a Batman fan. Called it!" Gabe murmured proudly. "Yep, we've also got a budding artist. Better clean off that fridge and get some magnets, Cassy. You're gonna have a lot of artwork to hang."

Cas smiled as Dean busied himself with his new crayons. He was relived to see the normal activity. Dean could grasp his crayons just fine and he was clearly enjoying himself. He was making a mental list of all the things Dean enjoyed playing with. He was going to make up for lost time. 

"Well, I'd say we have a good amount of info. Dean's passed his developmental milestones. I'm a bit concerned with how quiet he is, but we can chalk that up to being a touch shy. Mentally, he's on point and he is playing and interacting appropriately. I'll leave you two to play. Uncle Gabe's got some emails to send."

"Gabe, wait."

Cas smiled up at his brother. "Thanks... for all of this. It feels good to let someone else take lead."

Gabe gave a mock salute, but his eyes were warm and serious. 

"I'll always be here to help, Cassie. You can count on that."

* * *

Dean stuck his tongue out, concentrating. He gripped the crayon tighter and colored hard on the fresh page. He liked this one. Batman's car. He had to get it just right! He grabbed another crayon and scribbled over the wheels. Yes! Perfect! He stopped and held up his page eagerly. Dadda was still sitting behind him watching. He smiled and Dean's chest went fuzzy and warm. Dadda liked his colors! Dean scribbled some more. He was gonna make this one super perfect than make it a present for Dadda! He had to get it just right.

He was nearly finished when the doorbell rang. Dean stopped coloring. He went stiff and ick. He didn't like that sound. It meant strangers were coming. He didn't want strangers! He wanted Dadda and Unca Gabe!

"It's okay, little bee," Dadda promised. He stood up behind Dean and went to the front. Dean felt his lip begin to wobble. Dadda was gonna let the scary strangers in!

There was an excited new voice. Dean craned his neck to see who it was even as he shrunk in on himself and huddled miserably on the carpet. He was practically lying on his new Batman coloring book. He didn't want the stranger to steal it!

"I heard there was a brand new Little here and I had to see him for myself!"

The new voice was growing closer and Dean tried stuffing his crayons under his body with his coloring book, shielding them. No one was gonna steal his stuff!

"Dean, look whose's here to visit!"

Red Lady walked in beside Dadda and Dean's panick quickly melted and oozed away. He huffed with relief and smiled up shyly at the grinning lady, her hair still as red and flaming as ever. 

"My munchkin! Look at you! So handsome and healthy now! And what's this! You've got a Batman book!"

Red Lady knelt down next to Dean to look at his picture. Dean grinned and flapped his picture for her to see. She loved it! He clutched the green impala next to him and showed her that too. Unca Gabe had given him lotsa stuff. 

"You got some cool presents, baby. Are they your new favorites?"

Dean nodded eagerly and shoved a blue crayon at her. 

"You want me to help color?" 

Dean nodded, grabbing his green crayon. Together they went to work coloring lotssa bad guys for Batman to fight. Dean tried to color them really ugly and mean. Batman would get them! Charlie was a good helper. Together they finished the page quickly. Dean sat back to enjoy his work. He popped a thumb in his mouth and sucked. Dadda was suddenly at his side wiggling the thumb out. Dean whined and squirmed away. He wanted his thumb!

"Here, baby. Let's try this. No sore thumbs allowed." Dean found a pacifier pushed inside his mouth. He tried spiting it out, but Dadda wiggled it a few times and Dean had to admit that he did like the nice way it rested in his mouth. He gave an experimental suck and agreed. Yes, it was better than his thumb. 

"Hey, sweet cheeks, I brought you a surprise," Charlie whispered. Dean looked up quickly. Surprises! He stared hard. He wasn't sure if he liked surprises. They could be ick sometimes. 

"Do you want to go see?" Dean nodded and made grabby hands. Charlie giggled and took one of his hands in her own. "Sorry, munchkin, I can't pick you up. You're a big boy! Let's hold hands!" Dean felt a glimmer of disappointment, but hand holding was good too. He didn't like everyone touching him, but Charlie was on his safe list. Together, they made their way down the hall to his room. He gave a startled squeak when he saw was was in his room. That hadn't been there before! He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled over quickly. Crawling was faster than walking. He couldn't walk too good and he didn't want to wobble. Charlie was laughing as she followed him over. 

"You like your new teepee, Dean? I thought it'd be the perfect little hidey-hole for you. You can snuggle inside or nap."

Dean crawled inside and curled up on one of the giant pillows. It was soft and squishy and he liked the velvety texture on his cheeks. 

"Aw, honey, you like your surprise?" 

Dadda was there next to Charlie. He was holding up his phone and smiling. Dean patted his pillow and Dadda knelt down and peeked inside. "We can look at books in here together. Maybe before bedtime later. We can snuggle and read a bit, hmm?" 

Dean very much liked Dadda's plan. He grabbed Dadda's hand and curled up on his pillows again. It was quiet and safe inside and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave his new sanctuary. 

"Dean, how would you like one more surprise?" Charlie asked, grinning. Dean stared up at her. There was more!? Why did she get him so much?

"What do you say, Dean?" Dadda asked. He was smiling too. "Would you like one more suprise?"

"P'wease?" Dean asked, nodding. He liked surprises now. At least surprises from Charlie anyway. 

"Hold hands?" Dadda offered. Dean grabbed one and wobbled to his feet. Together, they made their way out of his room and back down the hallway. Dean shuffled along, clutching Dadda's hand. He didn't like walking. He wished he could just crawl. 

They finally made it to the kitchen and Dadda stopped and opened the glass door. Dean squinted at the bright sun. He hadn't been outside in a long time. He wasn't sure he wanted to go. He'd never been in Dadda's back yard. 

"Look what Charlie got you, honey!" Dean stared at where Dadda was pointing. It was a big square with piles of sand inside. Dean's eyes bugged out when he saw the collection of cars, trucks, shovels, and buckets tucked inside. He pointed, waving his hand. 

"That! That!" he stammered. "Want play!"

Cas laughed and hurried to rescue Dean's balance as he wobbled in excitement. 

"Yep, let's go see it. We can definitely play." 

Dean thought they'd never make it over. He practically dove into the sand, hands grabbing for the soft piles. He found a bright yellow dump truck and scooped up a handful of sand to put in the back bucket.

Dadda and Charlie were laughing and watching. Dean grinned up at them and waved a shovel. "I dig! Dig, dig, dig!"

* * *

"Charlie, this is too much," Cas murmured with a disbelieving head shake. They stood watching Dean go to town in his new sandbox. He was digging with glee and loading up his fleet of new dump trucks with gusto. Cas had never seen Dean play this eagerly or with such carefree abandon.

"Are you kidding! This is Dean's first day all the way Little--a healthy Drop no less. Of course I'm going to spoil him and make this the best stinking Little day he's ever had. Look at him! He's over the moon."

"He's covered in sand," Cas argued with a laugh. "It's a good thing he's do for a bath today anyway."

"Spoil-sport," Charlie muttered with a fake pout. "This munchkin is gonna be spoiled rotten between me and Gabe. Oh, and you of course! He's got us all wrapped around his little finger."

"He desrves it," Cas murmured with a wane smile. "He deserves all of this."

"I chatted with Gabe earlier. He let me in the back so I could set up the sandbox. Well, so he could anyway. I didn't feel like carrying this massive thing by myself. Gabe said he passed all of his developmental assessments with flying colors."

"Yeah, he did great. Some small things we're watching, but overall, he did amazing. Especially considering all he's gone through. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had some delays."

"Not this champ. He's fought too hard already. He'll be just fine," Charlie promised with a smile. She'd snuck her phone out and was snapping subtle pictures of Dean's sandbox frenzy. 

"Stay for lunch?" Cas offered. 

"Only if it's pizza--and not that vegan crap you tried pulling on me last time. It's pizza, Cas, not friggin' salad!"

* * *

"No baff," Dean argued, squirming back.

"Yes, bath, honey," Cas returned patiently. He took Dean's hand and firmly led him through the sliding glass door. Dean whined, lip jutting out. The warmth in Cas's chest shot up another degree. Pouting Dean was officially adorable. "Let's get you nice and clean and get all that sand out of your hair. Afterwards, we'll have some yummy lunch. Charlie and Uncle Gabe are going to get us pizza!"

"'za, 'za, za!" Dean cheered, tottering into the bathroom. He plopped down on the mat and watched Cas start the bath. Cas saw him cringe and pull back slightly at the sudden noise of water hitting the bathtub. He cupped his hands against his ears. There was that reaction to noise again. Cas knew he was probably being paranoid. Still, he'd mention it to Garth and Ash. They were still technically going to work with Dean. Maybe they'd have some input on sensory sensitivities.

"Look at all these fun toys! We got duckies and a dolphin..." Cas started tossing the new bath toys into the tub, hoping to steal Dean's attention away from the noise. "And what's this! A froggy?!"

"Froggy! Want froggy!" Dean made grabby hands, eyes wide. 

"Okay, honey. Let's get you undressed really fast. Then I'll give you froggy." Cas made short work of Dean's now grungy onesie and sweats. Dean managed to stand on wobbly, poorly coordinated legs while Cas un-taped the diaper and balled it up for the trash. Cas noticed how soaked it was, but didn't comment. Dean didn't seem to notice or care, and that was jsut fine. Dean was in his headspace and his incontinence was perfectly within limits now. Cas was curious what would happen when Dean went big again. Would he show any improvement? Oh, God, he hoped and prayed so. 

"Okay, honey bun, one foot in. Now the next foot. Good boy! Let's sit down so we can play with your new toys." 

Dean gingerly sat, flinching in surprise at the warm water. When he was finally seated, he instantly reached for the mounds of frothy bubbles, giggling. Cas kept his promise and passed him the green froggy. Dean first reaction was to pop the thing in his mouth and gum it contentedly. It must have been the smooth, rubbery texture, Cas figured with a grin. Dean batted at the bubbles and ferried his tiny armada of rubber ducks around the bath contentedly. Dean's eyes began to droop halfway through. The excitement of the new toys and the warmth and relaxation of the bath were doing wonders. Cas smiled at the sleepy toddler and grabbed a washcloth. He was on a time-crunch now. He needed to get Dean clean and out before he fell asleep. They still had lunch to get to. He'd put Dean down for a nap after lunch. 

Dean let Cas wash his arms and chest listlessly. Cas moved on his legs and feet. Dean giggled and woke at the tickling and pulled his feet back as Cas sang the "This Little Piggy" rhyme. 

"No piggies!" Dean cried with a shriek of laughter as Cas wiggled his toes with the washcloth. 

"Yes, I love these little piggies!" Cas growled making a mock smacking sound with his lips. "Gonna eat them all up in my tummy!"

"My piggies!" Dean argued, grinning.

"No mine!"

"The only piggies I want are on a family-sized pepperonie, mushroom, and ham supreme," Gabe muttered from the doorway. He was standing with a grease-soaked paper plate of stacked pizza slices. He grinned down at them and raised a slice. "You two better hurry up before me and Charlie eat it all."

"Za, za, za!" Dean cried, reaching up as if to steal Gabe's plate. "Hungwy! Dadda," Dean begged. Cas smirked and made a shooing gesture at Gabe. 

"I know, baby. We're almost done then we'll go eat lots of pizza. I promise." Dean stared hard as if doubtful of the promise. 

Cas rushed through a quick hair-washing which Dean endured with reasonably calmness. Cas kept the water out of his eyes and all panic and crises were averted. It was only when Cas soaped up a fresh washcloth to care for Dean's bum that Dean went rigid with fear. He pulled back and froze, eyes wide. 

"Dean," Cas asked, freezing. He set the washcloth down and stared. The Little looked shut down and almost robotic. "Honey, what's wrong." Dean's only answer was a lip wobble and tears. 

"No, w'ike," Dean whispered, hoarse. "Owies."

"Oh, baby." Cas's heart finished shattering and he took a hard breath. He'd wondered whether Dean would have much memory of his abuse from before. If he'd remember what his biological father had put him through. All of the violation. He hated knowing the answer now.

"Sweetie, it's me. It's just Cas... just Dadda. I'm never going to hurt you. You're safe. No bad touches or owies." Dean's panicked little huffs for air seemed to slow and he looked up and regarded Cas with serious eyes that seemed so much wiser than his headspace. 

"I'm going to get you cleaned up and little, but I'll be very quick and gentle. No owies. I promises." 

Cas waited to ensure Dean was calmer before he started. Dean endured it with pained stoicism. Cas breathed a sigh of relief and flung the washcloth to the side as he pulled the plug. He needed to cuddle this Little and he needed to do it now.

While the water drained, he helped Dean stand and he gathered him into a fresh, over-sized, hooded bath towel. Dean's face vanished into the folds and when Cas spotted him again, Dean's face had lost the worried lines and furrows of anxiety and fear. He was rubbing his cheeks against the soft downy fuzz and smiling at the sensation. 

"Let's get you nice and cozy so we can go get pizza," Cas promised. They made the shuffle to the bedroom and Dean rolled onto the changing pad. Cas grabbed a fresh diaper and clothes and regarded Dean thoughtfully. It struck him odd that Dean seemed more okay with being changed and dressed than bathed. He knew changing carried a certain level of stress for Dean, but it wasn't at the level the bath and washing seemed to bring. Cas shuddered at the implications. Dean's fragmented memories must carry bad connotations over baths. What the hell had John allowed in the past?! Right then and there, Cas promised himself and Dean that he'd make baths fun for Dean. He'd buy any and all bath toys or soothing aids he could if it meant Dean felt safer with bath time. Also, he was adding this to his list of things to ask Garth about. 

Dean wiggled his feet and stared up rapturously at his new Batman fuzzy socks. Cas finished taping his diaper up and wiggled a fresh pair of sweats over Dean's narrow hips. "Look what I found, baby!" 

"Ba'man! Wan' Ba'man!" 

Cas grinned and slipped the Batman t-shirt over Dean's head. He made a mental note that Batman was at the top of Dean's "like" list. Good to know!

"Okay, baby, ready for some lunch?"

Dean wiggled upright and let Cas lead him from the bedroom. Dean babbled away rapid-fire. Cas only managed to catch every 2nd and 5th word. He grinned at the excited baby-speak. It was music to his ears. 

Charlie and Gabe were still working on their own lunch when Cas and Dean arrived. They oo'ed and awed at Dean's new Batman gear and welcomed to the table. Cas helped Dean into his chair and served up a sliced up piece of pepperoni and cheese. Dean went to work and Cas fetched his own lunch. He added a pile of baby carrot sticks to his plate just to spite Gabe. As he sat down to eat, he allowed himself a moment to look around at his lunch mates. Warmth bubbled in his chest as he listened to the happy chatter and Dean's baby-speak garble between bites of gooey pizza. He smiled quietly and basked in the peace. This was the first time in a long time he'd sat down to eat with family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical notes:
> 
> Pediatric developmental miles stones:   
> https://neurologicexam.med.utah.edu/pediatric/html/18month.html  
> https://www.pregnancybirthbaby.org.au/development-milestones-18-to-24-months


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Dean explores his new home with fresh eyes, makes some messes, and gets a boo-boo kissed.

Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes. They felt gummy and sleepy, but he didn't want a nap. He didn't like naps. They were yuck! Dean looked over at Dadda. He was sleeping and making funny sleepy noises and his mouth was open. Dean giggled. Dadda looked funny with his hair all messy. He'd put on Curious George after breakfast and they'd sat and watched George go on a train, and pet a kitty, and eat a giNORMOUS sandwich! Dean's belly had been super rumbly then and he really really wanted a sandwich. He'd looked over at Dadda and pointed, but Dadda had already been asleep. Dean wondered why Dadda was so sleepy.

Very carefully, Dean scooted his bottom off the couch, slowly and quietly so Dadda wouldn't wake up. He tried walking to the kitchen, but his legs felt wobbly. He stumbled and fell to the carpet, hands stinging. He sniffled wetly. No crying! He was big boy! He crawled forward toward the kitchen. He wanted a snack! Dadda gave a loud snore behind him and Dean froze, peering over his shoulder. Dadda stayed asleep though, head back and mouth still hanging wide open. Dean giggled. Silly Dadda!

Dean made it to the kitchen. He peered up. The fridge looked so high. He staggered upright, legs wobbly. He grabbed the handle, but he was already tottering back to the floor. Dead grunted angrily and stared up at the glass shelves. His belly was rumbly! He stayed on his knees and reached up for the closest, yummiest food he could reach. Unca Gabe's waffles from yesterday morning! Dean eagerly grabbed a fluffy waffle and took a giant bite and grinned, crumbs falling from his mouth. Unca Gabe made the bestest waffles! Dean gorged himself on the rest of the waffle, already eyeing the fridge for more goodies. There was a blue and white tub of something. He grabbed for it and it fell to the floor, splatting open in front of him. White fluff was everywhere! Dean awwed and scooped up a fistful of fluff. He stuffed his hand in his mouth and sugar hit his senses like water on a hot skillet. He ooh'ed and awwed his way through several more handfuls of fluff. It was so yummy! His belly was started to get full though. He brought another handful of fluff up to his mouth, but stopped. His belly felt full and almost ick. Yeah, no more fluff. 

He crawled away from the fridge ignoring the sticky fluff still coating his hands. He headed out of the kitchen and down the hall. He wanted his toys! 

"Mop'y!" Dean crowed when he made it inside. Mopsy was on his bed, smiling down at him. Honey and Squeak were next to her. Dean grabbed the bunny and hugged her close. He loved his bunny so much! Just like she loved him. Dean tucked her under his arm and crawled over to his table. It had all his bestest toys inside. He pulled a drawer open and oooh'ed at all the squishy fruits and veggies he found inside. He hadn't seen these toys before! He dug them out and dumped them on the table. He wanted more toys! He pulled open another drawer and it pulled too far. It crashed to the floor, his farm animals scattering. Dean giggled. His cows made funny mooing sounds when they squished. More toys! Dean grabbed another drawer. He wanted his squishy sand! His cows like sand to play in. Dean pulled two more drawers out, fish and trucks spilling everywhere. Dean found the sand and yanked it free. It dumped on the floor but Dean scooped up lots and dumped it on the table. It wasn't all of the sand, but enough for his toys. He sucked the white fluff still stuck to his hand as he played. It had sand on it too, though, and it tasted kinda yucky now. He sucked his other thumb instead. He made his cows have a silly cow party and eats lossa the veggies. Dean giggled and made one of the cows dance in the sand. Mopsy thought it was really silly!

Dean kept playing but he kept yawning and his eyes were getting itchy. He rubbed them, but it was with his yucky stick-fluffy-sandy hand. He whined and rubbed harder, trying to get the sticky grit out of his eyes. He grunted angrily and rubbed with his other hand. His eyes were droopy now too just like Dadda's had been when they were watching Curious George. Dean didn't want to go sleep!

It was then Dean realized how itchy and yuck his diaper felt. He shifted onto his knees and tried to ignore the cold, itchy squishiness between his legs. He whined louder and kept shifting. He didn't like the icky feel. He wanted it off! Dean was stuck with sudden insight. Dadda throwed his diapies away in the bathroom. Dean could get rid of it in there. He eyed his teepee from Charlie. It had lossa pillows and blankies inside. Dean would lie down in there... just until his eyes stopped feeling so droopy and itchy. 

Dean abandoned his cow party and crawled down the hall to the bathroom. He spied his bucket of bath toys and made a pit-stop by the tub. He dumped the bucket over and his duckies frogs scattered with a chorus of squeaks. He giggled and stuck the largest duck in his mouth. He liked the soft squishy feel in his mouth. He kept it there while he fiddled with his pants. He kept tugging and pulling until they edged down off his bottom. It was then Dean looked down and spied the crayons. They'd spilled from the bath bucket and rolled toward his feet. he eyed them curiously. Why were crayons in the bathroom? They looked different than the ones Unca Gabe gave him. These ones were big! He grabbed one and stared. He stuck it in his mouth on impulse but spat it out immediately. Yucky! 

He picked up a pink crayon. He noticed the pink scribbles beneath it. It had started coloring the floor when it fell! Dean grinned. Silly crayon! He ran it up and down the tile several times, pleased with the thick, bright lines it left behind. He grabbed a green one and scribbled. He'd make a picture for Dadda! It'd be a s'prise next time Dadda gave him a bath! Dean kept scribbling but the itchy coldness between his legs was getting worse. He whined and bit his lip, trying to ignore it. He wanted to color!

It became too much, though. He shimmied upright onto his knees and finished tugging his pants down. He fumbled clumsily for the diapy and ripped it off. It flopped off his hips but it was still stuck. He grunted angrily and wobbled upright more to try and get if off. 

"Dean!"

The sudden voice behind him made him jump. It wasn't an angry voice, but it still made him jerk. He fell forward in surprise, head hitting the corner of the counter sharply. Instant hot tears welled-up in Dean's eyes as he sobbed at the injustice of the whole thing. The yucky diapy was still stuck to him and now his head hurted really bad! He wanted Dadda. 

But then Dadda was right there, hugging him and rubbing his back and promising him that he was okay. 

"Oh, baby, what a scary fall that was, huh? Did you hurt your head?"

Dead nodded into Dadda's chest and sobbed a "yeah-huh" that didn't really sound like one. He was crying too much. Dadda hugged him closer and sat him down in his lap and rocked. Dean kept crying, but his eyes were getting drooping again. He rubbed them and sniffled wetly. His head didn't feel so owie anymore, but he didn't want Dadda to stop rocking. It felt nice. He settled back in his lap and kept sniffling. 

"How about we go back to your room and get you all cleaned up and cozy. We can cuddle for awhile. How's that sound, little bee?"

Dean gave a wobbly nod and took Dadda's hand. They made their way slowly down the hall, but Dadda stopped suddenly in the doorway. Dean tottered and nearly fell. He looked up questioningly. Dadda was staring hard at the table, mouth open. Dean pointed. "Cow party!" he announced proudly. The cows were still buried in the sand and the fruit, vegg'bles, and the rest of the sand lay scattered over the floor. 

"You... you've been playing really hard, Dean," Dadda finally said. Dean frowned at the funny voice Dadda had. "What's all this white stuff, baby?" Dadda was staring at the floor. Dean looked down and found the white fluff from earlier. 

"Yummy fluff," he murmured dreamily. Dadda gave a nod, but he didn't answer. "Okay, honey, let's get you fixed up." Dean giggled. Dadda still sounded funny. Like he was trying to talk very quietly.

Dadda rolled Dean's pad out and helped Dean lay down. He pulled his pants all the way off and finally got the yucky diapy un-stucked. Dean kicked his freed legs out and Dadda rested a hand on his belly, warning him to hold still. Dean obliged, but only because Dadda tucked a paci in his mouth. He suckled and watched Dadda clean him up. He putted lots of white sticky cream all over Dean's bottom.

"You're getting a little pink and rashy, buddy," Dadda murmured. "This cream will help you not feel so itchy." Dean wrinkled his nose. He didn't like the sticky cream all over his skin. But then Dadda was taping a new soft diapy over him and it didn't feel so yucky anymore. 

"Let's get you nice and cozy," Dadda announced as he helped Dean into a soft pair of jammies. Dean ooh'ed when he saw the Batman's all over the top. He pointed at his chest excitedly. "Ba'man!" he cheered. 

"Yeah, baby, you got your special Batman jammies on. Aunt Charlie bought these for you." Dean rubbed the soft pants and smiled dreamily. 

"Okay, honey, let's get you in your teepee." Dadda helped him off the changing pad and they crawled into the teepee together. Dean snuggled into the pillows and Dadda laid a blankie over him. Dadda laid down beside him and rubbed his head. It was still sore from the fall and Dean curled into his hug, whining a little. 

"Oh, baby, you got an owie, huh?"

"yuhuh," Dean sniffled into Dadda's shift. 

"Here, lemme give you a nice big kiss all better." Dean felt Dadda press a kiss to his forehead. He curled close and let his itchy, heavy eyes finally drift close. It had been a long, big morning and lying down with Dadda didn't sound like such a bad idea. 

* * *

"Gabe, the house is trashed."

A chortling laugh was the only response Cas got. Gabe sounded like he was belly laughing and Cas did not appreciate the lack of sympathy. 

"He was so quiet and good yesterday. He played, ate lunch, napped, watched cartoons, played and then literally went to sleep. He was so mellow. It was like he was on a mission today!"

"To be fair, he was still out of it from the meds. He'd just gotten his first dose the day before. His system is adjusting nicely. I'd be worried if he didn't have more energy and curiosity today."

"It's terrifying, Gabe! I literally drifted off for less than a hour. We were just sitting on the couch after breakfast watching TV. I was letting him relax and hoping to put him down for a nap. I wasn't trying to fall asleep!"

"Cas, you're still sleep-deprived like a lot. You've got so much sleep to catch up on, it's not even funny anymore."

"The point is, anything could have happened!" Cas burst out. "I was asleep for less than an hour and he managed to get into the fridge, tear into the waffles, dump a tub of Kool-whip, and crawl all the way down the hallway. There's dozens of whipped cream handprints all over the floor! He dumped all his bath toys out and colored all over the floor with the bath crayons. Oh, he fell in the bathroom and hit his head on the counter! Gabe! What if he'd really hurt himself while I was asleep! He could have concussed himself!"

"Whoa there, Chicken Little. The sky isn't falling and your baby isn't going to the ER. He bumped his head. This kind of thing happens to Littles everywhere. He'll be okay."

"Oh, and he made it back to his bedroom where he pulled out the drawers to his sensory table and dumped all the sand. I almost forgot that part."

"Well, it sounds like he's ready for a nap. He's had a busy morning," Gabe remarked matter-of-factly.

"He's sleeping now. I have to get all this cleaned up while he's out." Cas heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. His heart was still pounding. He couldn't seem to explain the raw fear the had surged through him when he'd awoken on the couch and found Dean gone. He'd searched for him and followed the trail of carnage Dean had left in his wake. It wasn't the mess. Cas would happily clean up any and all of Dean's inadvertent messes. It was the uncertainty and risk those messes had carried. Dean could have gotten into anything. The bump on the head could have been so much worse. 

"Cas, hey, listen to me, baby bro. I can feel your panic through the phone. You need to sit down and drink some of that awful green tea you like so much. You need to take some breaths and focus on the fact that Dean is safe, sound, and sleeping. He's okay."

"What if he hadn't been!?"

"What you're feeling right now is very natural--all new parents (and old parents) feel it to some degree. It's the irrational need to bubble-wrap your babies and lock them away safely. It's natural, but you need to acknowledge it and move forward. Parenting is risky, but that doesn't mean you need to panic every time Dean gets into mischief. You do your best, but that doesn't mean you can watch his every move or anticipate every risk." 

Cas gave a stilted, slightly hysterical laugh and rested his face in his hand. 

"Don't even worry about the mess," Gabe continued. "You need to spend some time decompressing. I'll be home in an hour and I'll fix anything that needs fixing."

"How's the office?" Cas muttered. He didn't even want to think of the patient load Gabe must be hoisting. His patients. The patient's Cas had abandoned. 

"We're doing fine. It's been busy, but nothing Charlie and me can't handle. We'll wrap up here and then I'll head home. I'll pick up some take-out on the way."

"Shouldn't be feeding Dean junk food," Cas muttered, more to himself than Gabe.

"Another night of fast food won't kill your baby. Besides, he needs the fat and calories. I can still count his ribs and I won't have that."

Gabe said his good byes and hung up. Cas sat at the kitchen table and wallowed in his existential crisis. He couldn't turn his brain off. He couldn't stop picturing the untold number of worst-case scenarios that could have happened while he'd been accidentally napping. He sighed and rubbed his aching head. 

When he'd gathered his wits enough, he rose and started the kettle. He'd make some tea as Gabe had ordered and try to calm himself. Dean would wake in an hour or so from his nap and he'd need him to be calm and collected. He didn't want Dean to sense his anxiety and rattled nerves. It wasn't fair to him. 

Cas peeked in on Dean while he waited for the water to boil. The Little was still passed out in the teepee, Mopsy in his arms and the blankie tucked almost over his face. He was sprawled out like a starfish on his belly, snoring quietly behind his pacifier. Cas smiled and shook his head. He'd known Dean was curious and industrious, but he hadn't anticipated the level of activity he'd be capable of. Even in a Little mindset, he'd managed to cruise about the house and engage in anything and everything that had caught his eye. Cas shook his head fondly, but his brain was already working hard. He had a lot of Little-proofing to do. Gates, locks, the list was endless. He been moving and shutting away all the chemicals and medication in the house. Anything that might catch Dean's eye and put him at risk. His mind went back to the green bruise on Dean's forehead. It was suck a small thing, but Cas was already considering whether to place corner-guards on all of the furniture. You know, just in case Dean took another tumble. His balance was still bad after all. Ash had confirmed it! Cas pulled his phone out and began scrolling through the hardware store website as he headed back to the kitchen for his tea. 

He'd loaded up his virtual shopping cart by the time Gabriel arrived, arms bulging with take-out bags and his backpack. Gabe leaned over and took one look at the screen of Cas's phone before snatching it away and tucking it neatly away in his back pocket. 

"Yeah, you're done with your screen-time for the day," he announced. Cas groped for his phone but Cas set his bags down and batted his brother's hand away. 

"Gabe! I need that! I'm ordering Little-proofing, so help me God!"

"And we will... _together_. When you've had time to settle down and the sky's stopped falling. Here, I got you a meatball sandwich from Luigi's. You didn't eat lunch did you? Here, eat this now and you can have more for dinner."

Cas pouted, but Gabe was relentless. 

"Charlie's told me about you piss-pour eating habits the past month or so. I'm making it my divine mission to fatten both you and Dean back up. Eat the fracking sandwich, Cas!"

Cas ate the sandwich. Slowly and spitefully, but he did eat it. 

"Now," Gabe said, sitting back and folding his hands behind his head. "Let's talk about the Little-proofing you want to order."

Cas rattled out a minute-long list that had Gabe's eyes glazing over.

"Let's back up. I'll agree to the Little-Locks and a gate or two, but we're not getting corner protectors for every article of furniture in this house. That is overkill."

"He could hit his head again, Gabe! I'm not letting him stumble around a houseful of hundreds of potential concussions!"

"You can't seriously intend to cover every corner in this house. Listen to yourself, Cas!"

Cas deflated. He sagged down in his chair and fumbled with the spaghetti-sauce stained napkin in front of him. "I... I just don't want Dean at risk. Not after everything he survived."

Gabe reached across the table and clasped his brother's hand. "Hey, if he survived everything else life has thrown at him, I'm pretty sure he's tough enough to survive an exposed coffee table leg. This is Dean we're talking about."

Cas gave a watery smile and shook his head. 

"I must sound like a complete and utter fool to you."

"You're actually _not_ the most paranoid parent I've met. You can't top the mom who literally brought her Little into the office covered in bubble wrap."

Cas's mouth dropped. 

"You're not serious?! Bubble wrap!?"

Gabe grinned. "From shoulders to knees. Her excuse was the abnormal number of falls her little boy was experiencing. She was terrified he'd break something. Didn't stop to consider that wrapping him bubble wrap might actually make him trip more. We had a long and insightful talk before she left." 

Cas giggled, his giggles quickly evolving into full laughs. It was just so ridiculous. The bubble wrap mother, his own hysteria, Gabe. All of it. He wiped tears from his eyes and smiled up at his brother. 

"Now, show me the mess and we'll get it cleaned up before Dean wakes."

Together, the pair managed to finish wiping the sticky, half-dried whipped cream from the kitchen floor and hallway carpet. They moved on to the bathroom and managed to scrub the bath crayons off the tile. It was only when Gabe saw the mess in Dean's room that he gave pause. "Man, your baby's been busy!" he stage whispered. Dean was still passed out in the teepee. 

"I told you," Cas argued. "He moved so fast!"

"Let's get the worst of it up. I can always vacuum later when he's awake and eating dinner."

They managed to get the toys and the bulk of the sand put away before Dean began to stir. He'd had a good hour nap and he was clearly read to start the remainder of his day. Gabe made a shooing motion to Cas and kept cleaning. 

Cas headed over to the teepee and rubbed Dean's back soothingly. Dean gave a sleepy moan and finished waking, staring up at Cas with sleepy, adoring eyes. 

"Dadda," he murmured drowsily, making grabby-hands. Cas cuddled him close and sat rocking him as he finished waking. Dean started making smacking noises as he gummed his fingers hungrily. Cas chuckled and helped him up. 

"Let's go get a baba and get you freshened up. We'll have some dinner soon." Dean toddled after Cas, still too sleepy to even notice Gabe who was still hard at work scooping sand out of the carpet. 

Dean went to work on a bottle and lay curled into Cas's side as he finished waking up. Cas stared down at him, his hysteria from earlier finally fading. Seeing Dean up and safe was reassuring. The bruise was still there, but Dean didn't seem to even notice it anymore. 

Gabe strutted out of the hallway making a show of dusting off his hands. 

"I pronounce Master Dean's bedroom clean and fit for use!" 

Dean giggled around his bottle and Gabe took a long, dramatic bow that even had Cas grinning. 

"I'm heating up dinner, Dean bean, so I hope you saved your appetite." Dean watched Gabe vanish into the kitchen and he pointed eagerly after him. He looked up at Cas, eyes eager and wide. Cas smiled. 

"Yeah, baby. We're gonna go get some dinner. Let's get you cleaned up first really quick. Dean squirmed and pouted, but allowed Cas to lie him down on a pad and wiggle his sleep pants off. Cas eyes the bulging diaper. Dean had most definitely used it while he'd napped. He braced himself and gathered his supplies. He still felt niggling worry over Dean's bathroom habits when he went big again. He could only hope and pray the incontinence was still correctible when he was in his Big space.

After a record-fast diaper change, Dean wiggled back upright and began crawling for the kitchen, clearly on a mission. Cas followed after him, grinning. 

Gabe turned from the stove when they entered the kitchen. He was smiling, but when he saw Dean's crawling, Cas noticed the smile falter. 

"How often has be been crawling instead of walking?"

"I don't know. He's been back and forth," Cas answered, feeling strangely defensive. 

Gabe was quiet and Cas could see his brother's mind at work. "Has he been crawling primarily?" Cas didn't want to answer. 

"He... he seems more comfortable crawling. His gait isn't always very steady. I think it frustrates him so he gives up and crawls."

Gabe hmm'ed. "We'll need to mention it to Ash," he pointed out. "It's important Dean's mobility improves and matches his headspace. We may need to do some PT when he's Little if he's adverse to walking."

Cas wanted to argue and defend Dean. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help it. He knew Gabe was right, but the idea of forcing Dean to improve his walking skills felt cruel. He remained quiet, unwilling to start an argument he knew he couldn't win, especially with Dean in ear-shot. 

Gabe helped Dean into his chair and got him buckled in. Dean instantly began slapping his tray, lips smacking. Gabe grinned and set a Little place of cut-up meatballs and spaghetti on the tray. He pressed a spoon into Dean's hand, but he almost instantly flung it away. He dove into his dinner, hands first. He was eating more like an infant and less like a toddler. Cas cringed as he watched Gabe survey Dean. He knew what his brother was thinking. At a two-year headspace, Little's were still clumsy and messy, but they still made reasonable attempts at feeding themselves with age-appropriate cutlery. Dean wasn't even trying. 

"Cas--"

"I'll tell Ash!" Cas snapped. 

"It's okay," Gabe soothed. "It's not the end of the world if Dean has a few delays. He's doing great considering everything. It just means Ash will work with him on a few things." 

Cas knew Gabe was right, but it didn't quite soothe the guilt that festered. He felt like he failed Dean somehow. 

Dean didn't seem to notice the subdued mood as he scarfed his dinner down. His cheeks were stained red with tomato sauce and spaghetti was mashed into his bib. Cas picked at the spaghetti Gabe had set before him. He managed half the plate before giving up and watching Dean eat. Gabe helped himself to the remainder of the food, phone in front of him. He was sending emails and catching up on his own work no doubt. 

"I'm going to give Dean a bath," Cas announced when Dean finally finished. The Little was picking at the remainders on his tray, eyes droopy and hands listless. Cas knew the medication was still a factor in Dean's energy. He'd just woken up from a nap. He shouldn't be so tired already. He sighed and unfastened the tray. They'd make an early night of it. He'd get Dean washed up and then Gabe could start the next dose of medication. This was Dean's final day as Little. He'd go to bed Little tonight with the medication running and then he'd wake tomorrow Big. Fully Big Lord willing. Cas felt cheated. The day Dean had gotten his first dose of _Liteura_ was the first day he'd been technically fully Little. They'd had a such a great two days of Little Dean counting yesterday and today. He hated that it was over so soon. Three days on, three days off. 

Cas sighed and tried to shift his mind. 

The bath went well and Dean enjoyed the bath crayons whole-heartedly. This time, safely on the washable sides of the tub. Cas grinned and watched him scribble away fiendishly. Gabe poked his head in and watched from the doorway. He was smiling and chuckling at the innocent pleasure Dean radiated. 

He excused himself and Cas knew he was starting the IV set up. He sighed and steeled himself. It was another twenty minutes before he finished stalling and pulled the plug. He bundled up Dean in his hooded froggy bath towel and the pair made their way to his bedroom. Dean was babbling happily to himself, one hand in his mouth. Cas only caught every other word, but the rapid-fire conversation still made him grin. He got him changed and tucked into a pair of pajamas. They were short-sleeved ones to ensure Gabe had easy access to Dean's central line. Cas tucked Dean into bed and pulled out a stack of books before Dean could protest. They read _Good Night Moon_ twice and _Peach and Blue_. Cas sniffled but forced himself not to cry at the last story. He couldn't help it! He made a mental note not to read that book for a while--at least not until he stopped being such an emotional basket case. He was starting the _Vegetables Go to Sleep_ when Dean finally drifted off. Cas kept reading and waited for the soft snoring to begin. He tucked a pacifier into Dean's mouth and kissed his forehead gently. He dimmed the lights and Gabe crept into the room softly. He wheeled the IV pole to Dean's bed and grabbed an alcohol wipe. Very carefully, he cleaned the end of Dean's line and flushed it with a saline syringe. He attached the lines and wrapped several strips of Coban around his arm to ensure the line was tucked away and secure to prevent Dean accidentally pulling it in his sleep.

"I'll stay and finish the dose," Gabe offered. It wasn't really an offer. Cas heard the finality in his brother's voice. He knew he was right. He needed to go to sleep. It had been a full day and he was exhausted. He gave a weary nod and stood. "The infusion should finish in about an hour and I'll get him disconnected. He should sleep hard until morning," he assured him. Cas nodded and shuffled from the room. His heart felt strangely heavy as he finally collapsed into bed. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of Dean he'd wake up to in the morning. 


End file.
